This Town Ain't Big Enough
by x.Vivace
Summary: Set in a comic-verse where superheroes and villains coexist and the battle between good and evil bubbles in a not-so-peaceful city. Twist: It's not really about good and evil. Thiefshipping, AU. Language and innuendo tags. COMPLETED!
1. Fifty Bucks and a Blowjob

**A/N: I'm formerly xXI. Hate. TwilightXx on here, just so you guys know. I don't know if anyone still remembers me, but I'm making reappearance because I just can't stay away. I think Thiefshipping must be my OTP. :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own YGO. Just relapsing on YGO fanfiction. :D**

**.**

**"This Town** **Ain't Big Enough" Summary: Set in a comic-verse where superheroes and villains coexist and the battle between good and evil bubbles in a not-so-peaceful city. Twist: It's not really about good and evil. Thiefshipping, AU. **

**..**

"_Fast Fist Strikes Again!_

_For the third time just this week, the legendary criminal leaves yet another mark on the lives of every citizen of Domino._"

Malik read the newspaper over his brother's shoulder, harsh black coffee steam choking him before he could finish the article. Instead of sticking around choking, he wandered into the kitchen to hunt for breakfast.

"This Fast Fist guy is insane. He's going to get caught eventually," his eldest brother said around the rim of his mug.

Malik smirked into the fridge, searching for orange juice but coming up disappointingly juiceless. Odion was a cop. Malik knew he thought his best chance of getting promoted off traffic duty was if he caught and locked up one of the city's many superpowered criminals. He also knew if it did happen, it wouldn't be the one in question he got his hands on.

"I doubt it. Have you seen this guy in action? He's, like, fucking jet-powered or something."

Mariku, Malik's twin brother said as he walked into the kitchen. The latter mentioned of the two rolled his eyes when Mariku pushed past him to dig in the refrigerator, mysteriously pulling a mostly empty gallon of orange juice out of its hiding spot and gulping the rest down straight from the carton.

"Watch your language," Odion said half-heartedly, knowing no matter what he said Mariku would do what he wanted.

"He's right, you know," Malik offered, settling on pouring himself a glass of curiously scented milk. "FF is probably the best villain this place has to offer."

"FF?" Mariku snorted. "What, is he your _homie_?"

Malik shrugged and downed his milk. He set the clouded glass in the sink and slung a shoulder around Odion. "Love you, have a good day. Pass that on to Ishizu for me, will you?" He pecked the older man on his clean-shaven cheek and headed for the door, grabbing his backpack.

"Mariku, hurry up or you'll be late!" He called behind him before jogging outside and mounting his motorcycle.

.

Halfway to school, Malik parked his bike in front of an oldies record store and headed into a side alley. The place was dark, smelled of mold and stale beer, and the dirty dumpster made for a perfect cover.

He crouched beside it so it blocked him from passersby on the street and tugged off his shirt, folding it neatly and tucking it in his backpack. He did the same with his designer skinny jeans, and last with his purple Converse, which he tucked behind the dumpster so he wouldn't stain his clothes. He reached into his backpack until his fingers touched the bottom, and he traced the smooth lining until he found a small tear.

Malik peeked around the corner of the dumpster to check for intruders before pulling his mask out of the hole in his backpack lining and sliding it on, tucking his hair into the spandex. It was kill on his gorgeous do, but he kept a straightener with him 24/7 just in case. Next came his gloves from the same hidden pocket.

Lastly, Malik slid his backpack behind the dumpster and inspected himself. He was wearing a tight-fitting bodysuit that covered every inch of his body, flesh and hair. His eyes were shielded by a white rectangle that allowed him to see as much as he needed and a half-circle revealed his mouth and the tip of his nose, and everything else was covered with different shades of purple in a tasteful design. The wings drawn onto the back of the costume were a pretty sweet touch, if you asked him.

On his chest were two white letters: FF.

Fast Fist clambered straight up the wall of the alley, prepared to wreak loads of before-school havoc on the poor inhabitants of Domino City.

.

When Malik returned to the alley to change for school (he'd already missed most of first period. Oops) he was stricken with a wonderful surprise.

His left shoe was gone.

The tan, muscular teenager searched everywhere in the alley, hoping a stray cat had just dragged it out of its hidey-hole and misplaced it. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found.

Until the high-pitched, "Yo!" echoed through the small space and Malik snapped into a fighting stance.

The speaker stood up on the rooftop to his right, right above the dumpster. He was tall (taller than Malik), skinny but not particularly muscular, and holding up Malik's beloved purple Converse. He let it swing side to side, slowly like he was gloating, which he definitely was.

"Damn it, Lynx!" he said through gritted teeth. He'd been right about a stray cat dragging it off.

"You want these? Maybe I'll give them back if you can catch up to me," Lynx said before shooting off across the rooftop.

Malik scowled behind his mask and took a running start before shooting into the air in a magnificent display of his most valued ability. He flew a little above the roof, eyeing his nemesis with impatience. Most of the time, his messing around at Malik's expense was pretty fun, but not when he was already late for school.

Malik caught up to Lynx with ease, tackling him to the concrete from above.

"This is one weirdass arrangement we've got going on, don't you agree?" Lynx was always garbed in a pure white costume, much like the design of Malik's. However, his mask covered every bit of his face, leaving it completely concealed.

Malik didn't play into his hand, grabbing for his shoe, which Lynx was barely struggling with to keep out of his reach, above both of their heads.

"I've got somewhere to be. I seriously don't have time for this." Malik tried to reason. He was basically straddling the other boy's stomach, which at any other time he would have found both awkward and sexually fascinating. He let himself relax a bit, leaning down into his palms, which were planted on the rooftop on either side of Lynx's torso. He offered the other a frown that meant business, but his action was useless.

"If I gave up every time you whined about breaking a nail before prom, I wouldn't be much of a rival, would I?" he replied, his voice even but mocking behind his mask.

Malik eyed him for a moment, even though he couldn't see it, before lunging for his shoe again, this time propelling himself off the other's belly and plucking it from his hand.

Almost.

"They call me Lynx because I'm like a humanoid cat. My reflexes are twenty times better than yours, my dear Fafi." He paused long enough to let his point sink in. "Also, I've been told I'm a lot more flexible than most people."

Malik ignored the inappropriate joke and the nickname he'd acquired over the months with his lunatic nemesis. "Give me the shoe."

"Have we resorted to begging now, hmm? I don't go for that. I might hand it over for a fifty and a blow job, though."

"Are you kidding me?" Malik demanded, his hands now on his hips effeminately.

"What? You would have offered that first if you'd known?" Lynx purred the last word, something Malik had always attributed to his powers, but sometimes questioned if that was who he was when the costume came off, too, because he was too damn good at it for it to just be an act.

"If I said yes, would you give me my shoe back?"

"If you said yes, I'd expect a crisp Franklin and a blow job. Then I might give it back."

"Grant is on the fifty, not Franklin. He's on the hundred. _Might_?"

"I changed my mind. I want a hundred. And yes, I said might. It's not like you're actually considering that anyway. You're too much of a coward."

"Would it get me my shoe back?"

Lynx stepped toward him, placed a hand on his shoulder. He leaned in until the smooth satin-y feel of his mask tickled Malik's ear and whispered, "You're a slut, Fafi."

Malik shrugged modestly, then grabbed his rival's offending hand and flipped him on his back, twisting his arm in what was clearly painful, even for someone with increased flexibility.

"You're so not worth my first base, honey." Malik held him in that position until he called out in agony, and then he swiped his shoe and took off into the air.

He didn't look back.

**.**

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did. **


	2. Anonymous Crime

**A/N: I'm writing another story on Archive of Our Own right now, so bear with me when updates get slow. Which they inevitably will. **

**Remialcsid: That was a legit test to see if MS Office Word would recognize that as "disclaimer" spelled backwards. It failed. Also I don't own this shit.**

**.**

"The school called me today at work, Malik. Care to explain?"

Malik came home to both his older sister who spent much of her time at her work, Ishizu, and Odion in the living room, looking half displeased, half worried. The displeased half was Odion, the worried half Ishizu. He knew they were his caretakers, but some breathing room was always pretty nice, too.

"I ran out of gas and I had to push my bike a few miles. No biggie." Malik had always been an easy liar. He felt a bit guilty when it came to fudging it to his family (except for Mariku. He pretty much always had it coming), but when it was called for to keep his hobbies secret, he was willing to say behind a sheen of smoke until death.

"So if I go check your gas tank, it would be full?" Odion knew how to threaten, and he also knew when Malik was lying. Bad combination.

His gas tank was at halfway. He checked before he passed by the nearest gas station on his way home just in case he really did need a refill. "No. I only filled it up a little since I was in such a hurry. Sorry. I promise next time it happens, I'll call."

Odion exchanged a look with Ishizu, and it was her who spoke up after a few seconds. "Set the table, okay? We're having spaghetti for dinner."

He nodded and sprinted into the dining room, setting the table for three. The last thing he needed was meat on top of carbs on top of carbs. He could hear his older siblings talking in a whisper in the other room, but he tried his best to ignore it. Once he let them know he was skipping dinner, he'd head out.

He had a cat to bag up, weigh down, and throw in the bay.

.

It was a warm night, and Malik's bodysuit stuck to his skin with sweat. He was sitting on the tallest building in the city, his legs dangling off the edge. Over the time they'd known one another, it had become a sort of meeting place for himself and his curious not-so rival. Lynx liked high places, and Malik liked his ability to fly.

"Dark is definitely your lighting, kid."

Malik didn't need to turn to know Lynx had finally shown up for some…whatever they had going on. He'd always known a villain on villain rivalry was pointless, but Lynx was the kind of person who couldn't be ignored. (Malik had tried his hardest.)

"Hey," he said, staring down at the street—the cars that zipped beneath him, entirely unaware of his looming presence. Lynx was silent behind him, for once. Sometimes he wondered who was behind the white mask that was so familiarly _blank_, but most of the time he didn't care. Didn't want to know. Odds were, Lynx had never once given a thought to who "Fast Fist" really was—just that he was the entertaining archrival that was occasionally a little bitchy. Taking things for what they're worth. _That_ was Lynx.

"Want to race?" Lynx sat down on the ledge beside him, cupping his jawbone in one hand and leaning on his muscular thigh.

Malik smirked. "We did that this morning, remember?"

"Slutty _and_ lazy. Wow. Guess I know which position _you_ take."

It would never get old how he could rattle off a million and sixteen innuendos without even twitching. The cover of his costume was too much. It was sometimes unbearable to the point Malik had offered to make him one that was more aesthetically pleasing (with an open mouth hole, so at least he'd have that to go by when attempting to read him), but Lynx was stubborn. He once said solid white suited him best, because it was empty. And then he laughed.

Malik's still not sure if he was kidding.

"I top all the women I take, duh," Malik said. They both laughed, because even through his bodysuit, he was the most obvious gay within a 100-mile radius.

"Well, since we're done lying to ourselves, why don't we go fuck some innocents?" Lynx stood up and stepped back onto the roof, not bothering to brush off his legs and bum.

"One felony I won't commit is rape, Lynx."

"Interesting. My costume has a frontal zipper just for it."

"Oh, my God. Seriously?" Malik skimmed the front of Lynx's suit, but the darkness concealed most of the details.

"Anyway, you know what I meant. About fucking innocents. Wait, I mean fucking _with_ innocents. Blast me. Always getting the two confused," Lynx faked modesty and turned to Malik.

"Hold on. You're waiting for me, which means…" Malik took a reflexive step back. "D-did you want to work with me?"

The two had always worked separately. That's how it was between villains, unless certain circumstances arose and bonds were forced in order to gain supremacy over heroes. Normally, Lynx would suggest some ridiculous contest, like who would mug the most female cardiologists in the span of twelve seconds, and they would both proceed solo and compare their winnings. Malik had once gotten a full box of tampons, twenty dollars and eighty-three cents in cash and a half-eaten cupcake in one run.

"_God_ no," Lynx defended. "Stop trying to interpret my every move. You're awful at it."

"I'm only awful at it because _you're_ awful at expressing yourself."

Lynx chuckled and turned his back to Malik. "Expressing myself is such a chore. I prefer to keep the bitches guessing."

Malik resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes. "What did you want to do? Racing is stupid. You know they call me Fast Fist because I'm _fast_, right?"

"Don't flatter yourself. Fast Fist can mean a _lot_ of things. A lot. Of. Things."

Malik swore he heard a grin in the other's voice, and the urge to roll his eyes came back. This time he let it happen, rubbing his temples as if to give Lynx the idea that he wasn't amused. "I'm going to have to head home soon, you know. If you wanted to do anything tonight, we better get it over with."

"Actually…" Lynx actually hesitated, or maybe Malik was mistaking the hesitation for a dramatic pause. "I do know one thing we could do."

Malik prepared himself to flip the catvillain off and start heading home, but what came out of Lynx's mouth was more than a little surprising.

"Let's fuck with the heroes."

Taken aback as he was, Malik was a bit impressed. Lynx hated the disgusting slime law enforcement called "privileges to society", and Malik himself was, for the most part, of the same opinion. Sorcery Chance was the obnoxious leader of the group of three. As a hobbit of a kid-thing, it was really surprising he was one of the good guys. His lame sidekicks were Wolf Bite (a tall male who did nothing but pretend he was useful and occasionally turn into some sort of dog-ugly boy hybrid) and Azure Magicmancer (a feisty-looking young woman who had slight power, but wasn't a threat."

It was surprising Lynx would willingly subject himself to interacting with them in any way, even "fucking with them". So surprising Malik suspected something more.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Because it's been too quiet around here recently. I bet they think there's hope of us leaving. Or getting terminal brain cancer and dying on the streets."

"Or killing one another in a drunken fistfight up here."

Lynx chuckled. "That was a fun night."

Malik smiled in agreement, and it was genuine. He let a comfortable silence pass, the warm breeze kissing his exposed jawline.

"So what's this idea? To mess with the heroes, I mean."

"I was thinking a contest."

"Boring," Malik said. "Try again."

"A contest to see who could commit the most felonies without being seen by them. They'd have no idea what the hell's going on and who's doing all that shit. Will their faces be red or what?"

"So you're pretty much telling me you want to commit a ton of anonymous crimes to _embarrass_ your _actual_ arch nemeses in front of the police. Nice."

Malik could feel Lynx's confidence growing instead of shrinking at his mockery.

"It wouldn't just be the police. It'd be the entire city that they'd have to fess up to about not knowing who was terrorizing everyone. More than usual."

Malik sighed and rubbed his front teeth together in thought. "Arguing with you is pointless, so I guess just saying yes is probably the best way to go."

"Damn right it is," Lynx said, not sounding relieved in the least. Of course he'd known Malik would say yes, which bugged the hell out of him because the damn kitten thought he could convince the great Fast Fist of anything. (It wouldn't have bugged him so much if it wasn't true, but Malik chose to stay oblivious to that fact.)

"So when do we start?"

"Tomorrow after you get out of school, obviously," Lynx replied, and Malik realized he'd been pacing on the rooftop through his entire ranted idea.

"School? Who says I'm a student?" Malik's retaliation was weak, but a weak fight was better than none.

"This morning, your clothes looked like they had been freshly bought, probably over the summer as a pre-first day of school ritualistic shopping trip within your family. Only a high school or college student would choose to wear purple shoes. You were rushed this morning, like you had somewhere to be, conveniently about the time the local high school starts classes, and lastly, judging by your weight, your BMI is approximately 20, which is just about perfect for a near-anorexic, gay high school male." Lynx paused his even, depressingly accurate barrage of statements to stop pacing and turn to Malik. "In other words, _you_ say you're a student, even if you don't mean to."

Malik kept his mouth in an even line to look un-phased. "I'm not anorexic."

"Sure you're not. That's why your stomach has been growling nonstop all evening. What, you skipped dinner to come hang with me?"

"I skipped dinner to terrorize some innocents."

"Oh. That's cute, really." Lynx took a deep breath. "I wouldn't want to disappoint you. How about we do that? Most anorexic high school children, go!"

"How about we rob the most street lunatics with a god complex instead?" Malik suggested, crossing his arms indignantly.

"Ooooooh, so close. I live in a box on the sidewalk outside the Golden Corral, not on the streets."

Malik couldn't help but chuckle. "Most box hobos who think white actually suits them, then?"

"You're on."

**.**

**A/N: Guys! I realized today that I really, really want to hold a fanfiction contest. Specifically a Thiefshipping short story contest. Would anyone at all be interested? I'd also need at least one other judge. If you think writing an entry or volunteering as a judge sounds fun, let me know so I know if I can pull this off. PMing or mentioning if you want to participate in a review is fine, and if I get enough participants, I'll make an announcement on my profile and in an author's note in this story, being as it's my only active Thiefshipping at the moment. Please let me know if you think this sounds fun! **


	3. Stage One: Realization

**A/N: There wasn't much response last chapter about the Thiefshipping short story contest, so I guess I probably won't do it. Unless you've suddenly had a change of heart (pun totally intended), then you should definitely let me know. :)**

**If you're reading this, thanks for sticking around. *I would put a heart here if FF allowed it.***

**Disclaimer: I used to own Yu-Gi-Oh!, then I took an arrow to the knee. **

**.**

Saturday morning, Malik woke up to the loud TV downstairs. The sun had barely risen, but an ache in his lower abdomen is what forced Malik out of bed. He peed first, then prepared himself for a day of nothing to do.

"You're up early," he told Mariku when he finished dressing and went downstairs. His twin was staring dully at the TV screen, playing Black Ops on full volume.

"Not up early. Haven't slept yet. Almost done with this mission."

Malik began making himself a cup of green tea, talking to his brother behind the Passover bar. "Turn it down before you wake Odion. He's going to be pissed that you didn't sleep."

"Not my dad."

"He's not mine, either, but I listen to him."

"Barely. Saw you park your bike at that record store the other day. You lied to him about gas."

Malik stiffened, almost dropping his mug. "Why were you following me?"

"Wasn't. Just passed by in my truck when you stopped. Augh, damn it!" Mariku dropped his controller on the floor and punched the arm of the couch. "This shithole keeps killing me."

"Look up a game guide. Did you see where I went?"

"Um, the record store..? I don't care how you spend your mornings. Just don't pretend like you're perfect." Mariku got up and turned off the Xbox. The TV reverted to the morning news, where a story about "repetitive, mysterious crimes plaguing the entirety of the city for almost a week" was airing as breaking news.

Malik's mood shifted from fearful to amused, but he didn't want to let it show. "Just don't tell him, okay?"

"Like I said—don't care what you do."

Mariku was searching for the remote when Malik climbed back upstairs to put on his costume.

.

"We were on the news!" Malik said, once he landed on the rooftop and he saw Lynx lying down on the ledge. "They aired a story this morning in the local news about the crime rate elevating with no more or less criminals and villains than normal being caught and arrested."

"Lovely. How about we celebrate by robbing a liquor store and having drunken sex in a back alley?"

Malik eyed him, eyebrows knitted together. "You're not excited?"

"No, I'm not. We didn't accomplish much. They're in stage one right now. Realization. They're not even panicking yet," Lynx said lazily, punctuating his words with a yawn.

Malik raised an eyebrow. "Are you hungover or something?"

"No. It's early. I'm _tired_."

"Then why are you here? Go home and sleep, stupid."

"Can't. The Golden Corral manager threw away my box and chased me off with a spatula," Lynx said, rolling over onto his back to face Malik.

"Oh, _ha-ha_. You're hilarious. Seriously. Why are you here?"

He heard the cat-villain sigh, and Malik practically leaned in for the explanation.

"I was out all night, okay, _mom_? That's probably the reason they aired that story on the news. I did so much shit."

"Wow, I was really hoping for something more interesting, like your parents found out you were an evil super villain and kicked you out."

"If that were the case, I'd just go to your place."

Malik's muscles tightened, a cold, nervous feeling filling his stomach. "Liar. You don't know where I live."

Lynx shrugged. "Believe what you want, kid. It's not like you'd ever make it stupidly easy for me to find where you hide your stuff when you're in costume and therefore make it easy for me to wait for you to come back to change into your normal clothes then follow you home, right?"

Malik hesitated, unsure of how to react. The idea of Lynx following him home was strangely interesting, but horrifying all the same. What if he'd watched Malik change through the window? What if he'd broken in before? What if he'd seen Mariku's ridiculous hairstyle? He felt his uneasiness about the whole idea wash over him. And yet, something deep inside was telling him it wasn't such a bad thing. The reason heroes and villains kept secret identities was to protect the people they cared about. Didn't that make masks pointless when he was dealing with someone he—daresay—trusted?

"Oh, relax. I'm kidding. I've never followed you home before, okay? I just wanted to see your reaction. Jesus. You looked like you were having a panic attack over there." Lynx chuckled, the sound deep, like a growl.

Malik vaguely considered telling Lynx that he wouldn't mind them being actual friends instead of just semi-cohorts, but he knew the idea would be mocked if he dared mention it. "You're such an ass."

"Hey, don't leave the opportunity open if you don't want me to be able to take it."

"I know, it's tempting. You must fap to fantasies of showing up outside my window every night. Can we please move on to a different topic now?" Malik fought back a smile. He meant the words to sting, but, maybe that wouldn't be such a horrible, tragic thing. Lynx had a nice figure under his costume, and a very sexy voice. He was always saying stuff about them having "relations", but Malik had never been entirely sure if he was joking.

"Fine. I've really got to go get some sleep anyway." Lynx stood up, preparing himself to hop down to a lower rooftop. "Just don't flip when you get home and I'm in your bed, alright?"

Malik rolled his eyes. "Get out of here, you lunatic."

.

"Does Mariku like fish sticks?"

Malik shrugged at Odion. He was leaning against the grocery store's display freezer, idly tapping his foot to the relaxing jazz playing from the speakers above. "I don't know. Call Ishizu. She normally does the shopping."

Odion shook his head, and Malik could see the frustration weighing him down. "She's working."

The silent, shared thought that she spent too much time at the museum she kept was looming above them. Their sibling had recently gotten a promotion that required her presence much more often than she needed to be there.

"She's always working," Malik said. He opened the freezer Odion was staring at and picked out a bag of low-quality fish sticks. "If he doesn't like them, then he can just find something else. I like fish sticks."

"That doesn't really matter when you don't eat."

Malik froze, the bag still in his hand. "What?" It was true that he'd been cutting down on how much he ate, but he _did_ eat. Most of the time.

"I'm not stupid, Malik. You skip dinner almost every night and all you have for breakfast is juice or tea. You've lost way too much weight." Odion took the bag of fish sticks from his hand and held them up for emphasis. "I will buy these if you promise me you'll eat them."

"Fine, I will. But just so you know, I eat at school every day." _Mostly. Kind of._

Odion eyed him, searching for a lie. Malik crossed his fingers behind his back. "Okay. Just start eating at home, too. Ishizu's worried."

"Sure thing," Malik said, swallowing. He felt a lump deep at the base of his throat, and his eyes had started to burn. Shit.

He excused himself to go to the bathroom, and as soon as Odion couldn't see him anymore, he ran. He ran until he got to the boy's room, then he pushed inside, actually running into someone. Both of them fell completely to the floor.

"Ow…" said the other guy, rubbing the back of his head, which he'd hit against the towel dispenser. "Are you okay?"

Malik looked up, meeting big, brown doe eyes, slightly covered by thick, white bangs. "Ryou?"

"Oh, Malik. Hi. You weren't in first period the other day. Were you sick? Oh my gosh! You're crying. What happened?"

Ryou's delicate accent and worried expression made it impossible for Malik to snap at him. He stood up and wiped his face, then held out his hand for the other teen to take. Once they were both on their feet, Malik went to wash his face at the sink.

"Nothing happened. I'm fine. And I'm not sick, either. I ran out of gas on the way to school and I had to push my bike to the convenience store." His mind flashed to Mariku, and how he knew Malik was lying about the gas. Mariku wouldn't tell on him just yet—he'd save it for blackmail. He pushed that out of his mind, focusing back on his company.

"Are you sure you're okay? I'm a good listener, you know." Ryou smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. He looked like such a dork when he did stuff like that, but it was still pretty cute.

"I'm fine. I promise." Malik dried his face with a wad of tissue he took from the nearest stall. Using a paper towel would irritate his skin and turn it read and puffy.

There was a short awkward silence, but Ryou broke it with: "So…do you come here often?"

He giggled, which made Malik smile. Ryou claimed to be straight, but Malik knew better. He was your classic girly-boy, with huge opportunities as a gay man. He was smart, good-looking and almost too nice. Malik had never really considered him "dateable", but he'd never ruled it out, either.

"I'm just here with my brother getting some food. How about you?" Malik tossed the tissue in the garbage, then met Ryou's eyes directly. Surprisingly, he looked flustered. Even scared.

"Uh, I-I was just leaving, actually. I'll, um, see you Monday. Buh-bye!" Ryou turned without another word, and he almost sprinted out of the bathroom. It was weird, but Malik didn't give it much thought. Odion would worry if he didn't get back soon.

He left the bathroom and didn't think about Ryou again.

.

**A/N: I love Ryou. He's actually probably my favorite. Too bad he's technically not a part of Thiefshipping. He'll be in this story a little more later on, since he's so cute. I mean since he plays an important role. Obviously. :P**

**In this story, Malik is the kind of vegetarian who eats fish. I'm saying this because I decided they should be buying fish sticks before I remembered this fact, and I couldn't bring myself to change it. **

**Thank you for reading this. Even if you don't review, I'm really grateful you chose to take a look at this. *heart***


	4. 190 Calories

**A/N: Be warned: this chapter strays off topic A LOT. I was kind of having an anxiety attack when I wrote it, so it's all over the place. Please excuse its nonsensical rabbling. x.x**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!.**

**.**

Two weeks into the contest was when it happened.

Earlier in the night, he and Lynx had mutually agreed that if Fast Fist and Lynx suddenly disappeared, it would be suspicious and the heroes would figure out what they were doing. "Fast Fist" decided to make an appearance by mugging a group of thugs. They were just a bunch of loser kids—easy target. Some he recognized from school, which made it all the better.

"Out past your bed times, huh? That's a really bad idea. You never know what kind of creeps you'll run into." Malik drifted close to the ground, landing noiselessly on the pavement.

"Holy shit. Is that…?" One of the guys took a step back, dropping his lit joint on his shoe. "Fuck!"

Malik shook his head, grinning widely. "Don't be afraid. I'm not here to hurt you. All I want is whatever you have on you. Hand it over."

"Man, all we've got is a bag of weed. It's almost empty. You'd get more shit if you mugged someone else." One of the braver kids—one he recognized from school—spoke up.

"Or I could mug you _and_ someone else and get a lot anyway. Give me the pot. Don't you know that stuff's bad for you?" Malik held out his hand, but a voice behind him made him stiffen.

"Don't move!"

Malik turned and there was a cop behind him, aiming his gun.

It was Odion.

Malik cursed and took off, flying faster than he knew he was capable. The thing about his flying ability was that it was like running. It used too much energy to do for very long. Once his adrenaline faded, Malik felt the energy leaving him before he got to his and Lynx's rooftop, and by the time he was hovering above it, he didn't have enough energy to land. He ended up tumbling to the hard surface, and he passed out with pain reverberating throughout his entire body.

.

Malik awoke to the bright moon smiling above him. "What time is it…?" he asked the person he wasn't sure was there.

He was a little shocked when he got a response. "I don't know. You were there when I got here, though. It's been almost an hour since then. What the hell happened?"

Malik sat up, but the motion made him nauseous, and he dry heaved a few times before collapsing again. "He was going to figure out it's me."

"Odion?"

"How do you know that name?" Malik turned to Lynx, who was lying on his side, propping his head up on his elbow.

"You kept saying it while you were out. You were, like, _Odion, please don't shoot. _And _I love you, Odion, but I can't help who I am_. Is he the boyfriend?" Lynx sounded actually curious, which made Malik half-smile with weakened muscles.

"He's not my boyfriend. I don't have one."

"Then who is he?"

Malik tried to sit up again, slowly. He felt better the second time, so he propped his upper body up on his palms. His stomach growled loudly, interrupting the conversation. He felt his face flush, anticipating the lecture before it came.

"Are you kidding me? Is that why you passed out?" Lynx dropped his supporting arm to the roof and sat up as well. "How much have you eaten today? God, you're so stupid."

Malik smirked. "Is my hunger impairing my listening, or are you actually worried?"

"Do you _not_ realize that not eating to the point where you pass out doing something you've been doing every day for almost a year means you've got a problem?"

"I'm _not_ anorexic."

"Then why did you pass out?"

"I overexerted myself. Everyone does it."

"So, it's just a coincidence that your stomach growled loud enough to make my ears ring as soon as you sat up?"

"Yeah. It is."

"Liar."

"Ass."

"Anorexic."

"Nosy."

"Touché."

In the silence that followed, Malik noticed that Lynx was a lot closer to him than he had been when the argument started. They stared each other down through their masks for a long time, almost nose-to-nose before Malik realized the other could and probably would sit there all night.

"I was serious when I asked what time it is," he said, looking around pointlessly for a clock. Or just not looking at Lynx.

"I was serious when I said I didn't know."

"You said it's been about an hour, and I was mugging those kids at around eleven." Malik let the information process. "Shit. I'm out past curfew. I've got to go."

Lynx laughed, the front of his mask moving with his mouth, showing his grin through the material. "You have a curfew?"

"Fuck off. I'll see you tomorrow."

Malik dove off the ledge with nothing but hope that he wouldn't pass out again to grasp.

.

By the time Malik got home, dressed haphazardly in his clothes with his hair mussed from flying back home (he'd taken the chance of no-costume flying because if he was late, he was in big trouble) Ishizu was still at work and Odion had already gone to bed. Mariku, however, was up eating popcorn, an empty liter of Dr. Pepper on the floor at his feet.

"Where've you been? It's, like, one."

His twin was playing Call of Duty again, but the volume was much quieter. Odion must have made him turn it down before he went to bed.

"I was out. What do you care?"

"I don't," he said. He nodded to the window. "But she will."

Ishizu's car was pulling into the driveway. Malik shuffled over to the couch and took a seat. He grabbed a handful of popcorn, remembering how Odion had told him to eat in front of her.

When the door opened, he put one piece of the nasty, buttery carb-ridden mess in his mouth, prolonging his chewing so he didn't have to eat as much of it.

"Boys," Ishizu greeted, slipping her blazer off. She hung it on the coat rack and took a seat on the recliner to Malik's right.

"Hey," Malik said, after making a show of swallowing the popcorn. When he was sure she was looking, he took another bite and tossed her closed-mouth smile.

She took a deep breath and kicked her heels off. "It's late. Why are you guys…" She paused, examining Malik. "Did you just get home?"

As Malik was saying, "No," Mariku simultaneously ratted him out with a wide grin.

"Yes."

Malik dropped the rest of the popcorn back in the bowl and tried to straighten out his hair and clothes, as if he could reverse the damage with afterthought.

"You smell like pot. Malik Ishtar, you smell like pot." Ishizu's panic was evident in her eyes, and Malik's own widened when he remembered his run in with the kids from school before he passed out. His sister stood up, looming over him, sniffing the air disbelievingly. "Mariku, does he smell like pot to you?"

"Yes," Mariku replied, not even glancing over at the scene taking place. He was intentionally shooting some guy in the balls on Black Ops, and as the guy was screaming in agony, he muttered under his breath, "Suck on that now, bitch," and shot a woman who had been standing next to his first victim.

Meanwhile, Ishizu was inspecting Malik's eyes. "Were you out smoking pot?"

Malik hesitated. The scent was hard evidence that he had. It was either say yes and give the illusion that he could be honest with her and Odion, or say no and damn himself to never be trusted again. He thought for a moment, instantly weighing the pros and cons, and said, "These guys brought some to a party. It was stupid."

"Yes, it was. Go to bed. Odion and I will have a talk with you tomorrow. Mariku, you go to bed, too. It's late." Ishizu sighed, rubbing her forehead. If she was disappointed about him "smoking pot", he wondered how she would react if she ever found out how he _really_ spent his time.

.

As soon as Malik woke up the next day, all he felt was dread. And hunger.

He took his time dressing and grooming, putting on a purple and gray cardigan and khaki skinny jeans over the bodysuit part of his costume. He was probably going to get grounded anyway, but wearing his costume under his clothes all the time had become a habit since his and Lynx's latest contest.

Malik let himself mosey downstairs, his legs shaking from malnutrition. He couldn't even remember the last time he ate a full meal, but he liked the feeling of being completely empty inside. He liked testing his body to see how far he could take it. He liked how his ribcage stuck out when he wore his costume.

He hated worrying his family, though. Mariku probably hadn't even noticed he'd lost weight, but he could feel the anxiety in the air when he was around Odion and Ishizu. Their wide, concerned eyes raked his underweight frame, searching for reasons why he was putting them through everything he'd done lately.

That very look was the one he got from both of them when he stepped into the kitchen that morning. That was the look that made him open the freezer. His eyes immediately fell on an unopened bag of food—the fish sticks he'd bought with Odion weeks ago when they'd gone shopping. He fished the bag out and set it on the counter.

"Morning," he greeted his two oldest siblings, who were sitting at the pass over bar, talking and holding full coffee mugs that had long since stopped steaming.

"Malik." Odion nodded at him, but his eyes were on the fish sticks. Malik knew he wanted to say something like, _Fish sticks for breakfast? That's unhealthy, _but he wouldn't take the risk of him exchanging the solid food for a cup of juice.

He ripped open the bag with his teeth and counted out four sticks—the recommended serving size on the bag. 190 calories and nine grams of fat. God, they were lucky he loved them.

"Last night, I said we'd talk to you," Ishizu said. She sipped her coffee, but pulled back short, recoiling from the cold liquid.

Odion nodded again, this time agreeing with Ishizu. "I honestly don't believe you were smoking."

Malik looked away from the two, distracting himself with putting his food in the microwave. By saying he didn't believe Malik had been smoking, Odion was accusing him of doing something else. Which meant he knew that whatever it was he was hiding was worse than smoking pot since he'd taken that excuse over the real one. And, obviously, he was right.

The man needed to stop being such a good cop.

Once Malik closed the microwave and set the time, he turned back to his siblings. "Look, I was at this party for a while last night and then these kids just showed up with pot and a few cases of beer. I got high. The end."

The microwave beeped. Malik pulled his plate out of the small space and set it down on the bar, leaning on his elbows. "How are you going to punish me?"

The two exchanged glances, telepathically communicating about if knives or candle oil would make the better corporal punishment, Malik figured.

He took a bite of his first fish stick, and it took a lot of control for him not to gag. The salty taste was overwhelming, like his stomach was just _begging _him not to swallow it.

"You're not grounded," Odion said, setting his coffee mug on the bar. "Everyone tries it at one point, and the difference between right and wrong is if you do it again."

Malik shoved the rest of the fish stick in his mouth, hoping that if he ate it quicker, it would make it easier. Once he swallowed, he said, "So you guys did it, too?"

Both smirked, which pulled Malik's attention.

"He was in college and I was still in high school," Ishizu admitted. "It was my first college party."

His sister continued to tell him the story, and he continued to eat. By the time she was explaining how their dad had reacted (he'd still been alive back then) when he found out, Malik had finished eating, but his nausea wasn't going away.

She was laughing and telling him about her own ridiculous punishment their crazy dad had thought up when 190 calories and nine grams of fat worth of mushy fish sticks was regurgitated onto the kitchen floor.

.

**A/N: The story behind that last scene is that sometimes when you haven't eaten for a while, your body will reject the food. Kind of like when you go into organ rejection after a transplant, if you've ever heard of that. Your body sees the substance as foreign and attacks it.**

**So basically, Malik's in deep shit. :)**

**There will be more stuff about vile villainy next chapter. Filler is kind of fun to write, though. :P **


	5. Behind His Smile

**A/N: You guys keep giving me such nice reviews. I'm really lucky to have such a supportive group of readers. Thanks, you guys! **

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**.**

"So my family thinks I'm a junkie."

Malik landed gently on the rooftop of his and Lynx's building, smiling gently at the form of his rival. It had been several days since he'd seen him, but they'd gone longer without contact, so he wasn't expecting much in terms of a welcome back.

"And they _don't_ think you're anorexic? Your parents are the junkies," Lynx muttered lazily. If he were a real cat, Malik figured, his tail would be swishing back and forth, and he'd be clawing into the side of the building to stretch.

Malik ignored the urge to tell Lynx he wasn't living with his parents. He didn't want to risk the chance of piquing his curiosity and triggering his stalker mode. "No, they think I'm anorexic, too. Even though I'm not."

"Uh-_huh_."

Malik rolled his eyes. "The term anorexic suggests that my intake of food isn't under control. It is. I know what to eat, when, and how to work it off. If anything, that makes me smart."

"You would have a point, if you actually ate."

"How do you know I don't?"

"Your suit doesn't do much good in hiding how much weight you've lost since we met, and I'm not deaf. Just because you're used to the sound doesn't mean your stomach has stopped growling."

To keep himself from cringing, Malik crossed his arms. That was pretty harsh. He got enough of the lecturing from his brother and sister, who had been monitoring his eating since his incident with the fish sticks. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but shouldn't we be, I don't know, discussing our next attempt at taking over the world, or something?"

"Earth is so overrated. I'd much rather take over Mars."

Malik smiled and stepped over to the ledge of the building. It was easier to forgive Lynx for lecturing him, even though he could never pinpoint why. Maybe it was because he was normally just messing around. Or because he wasn't as…nag-y as his family. Or maybe it was because he had a killer body. All he knew was that it was actually kind of nice when Lynx gave the illusion of caring for him.

The two stayed in silence for a long while, the breeze fighting its way through Malik's suit. Fall was coming, and he briefly wondered what he would do about a new costume once it was too cold for the thin spandex. It could get especially cold when he flew, even in the summer time.

"Have you ever flown before, Lynx?" Malik wondered, voicing a casual thought.

"In a plane or with a superpower?" Lynx was sitting at Malik's feet, and he tilted his head back so he could look directly at him.

"I meant the latter, but include the former."

"Yes for both. The plane ride was here, from a location unbeknownst to you, and when I flew via powers, it was when I first started out and I ran into the heroes. Azure Magicmancer tried to restrain me by scooping me up from the scene and flying around haphazardly. The only thing either of us got out of that was my face in her giant breasts. God, those things should be tagged as a wonder of the modern world."

Malik could tell Lynx was grinning through his tone of voice and the way the mouth of his mask curved upwards. "Why do you do that?"

"Talk about boobs? Because I like them," Lynx said.

"No, not that." Malik sat down, letting his legs hang off the edge of the building. "You didn't tell me where you flew from. On the plane."

"That's because it's none of your business," Lynx replied. He was still facing Malik, which was weird because normally Lynx was the type to look away from people when they were talking to him. Like autism, except Lynx did it on purpose.

"We always say that, but does it really matter if we know something like that about each other?"

"Aww, does it bug you that we don't share things?" His tone was mocking.

Malik hesitated, averting his eyes even though it didn't make much of a difference. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"Then that's why I do it."

Malik looked back at Lynx, wishing he had a way to tell if he was joking or not. His mask held no answers, and his tone of voice said he was serious. Malik's hormones decided the best response was to get angry.

"God, you're so frustrating! You're afraid I'll leave. You're afraid if you don't keep me guessing, I'll label you as boring and take off. Lynx, I'm not you." Even he cringed a little at his last statement, wishing instantly that he hadn't said it. Lynx didn't seem to care much, though.

"What did I say about you trying to interpret my every move?"

_That I'm awful at it_. "I'm right, aren't I?" Lynx denying the accusation deterred Malik a bit, but letting it show would be admitting defeat.

Lynx didn't answer for a moment. He stood up and turned away, back to blocking the conversation out. "What you are is a hypocrite. If you want me to tell you things, then you go first."

His response was instant: "I'm seventeen. I've been living here all my life. My dad died when I was two, and my mom the night she had my twin brother and I. I live with my two eldest siblings. You were right about me going to the public high school. My older sister works at a museum, and my older brother is, ironically, a cop." Malik thought about telling Lynx what had happened the night he passed out on the rooftop—how Odion had almost arrested him—but Lynx would probably just make fun of him for nearly getting caught. "Anything else you want to know?"

Lynx shrugged. "One thing. Why are you so gullible?"

Before Malik could reply, Lynx literally stepped off the side of the building, landing on all fours on the closest rooftop below. He scampered off, hopping closer to the ground rooftop-by-rooftop.

The bastard was laughing.

"Asshole," Malik breathed, not even bothering to chase after him.

.

Dinner that night was salad. Malik noticed that Odion and Ishizu had started buying low calorie foods and fruits and vegetables to make his "recovery" easier on him. The idea was sweet, but it was still nearly impossible for him to stomach anything without a huge sense of self-loathing.

He ate the salad anyway. No dressing, picking aside everything but the lettuce. He finished before everyone and went directly upstairs to shower. That, Malik took his time with. His least favorite part came at the end. He scrubbed his entire body at least three times, letting the scent of vanilla honey catch on his skin, linger in his pores for several minutes before rinsing it off.

It was an hour before he was done. His fingers had started to prune, and he figured it wasn't worth prolonging the shower anymore. He stepped out onto the rug and was greeted by the image of his own dripping body.

The full length mirror hanging on the door was Satan.

From the front, Malik thought he looked okay, but not great. His thighs were a bit flabby, thanks to the new diet, but that wasn't at all bad compared to when he turned to look at himself from a side view.

"Fat, fat, _fat_," he whispered to himself, eyeing the bump at the base of his stomach. His collarbone was only barely visible and his ribs pretty much nonexistent.

Malik examined himself for another ten minutes before he was able to tear himself away from the reflection, and by that time he was ready to get out of the house, big time.

.

Malik had fully intended on confronting Lynx about his asshattery and then spending every second until his curfew ambushing people he didn't need to and mindlessly vandalizing other people's property, but before he could even make the change into Fast Fist, he noticed a mugging going on near his normal changing spot.

The robber was just a half-rate villain that would probably never even get a name from the public, so he didn't much care about him or his tacky costume. What he was interested in was the messy head of white hair that stood out against the wall.

"Hey, back off! I'm not just going to give you my things!" The sweet, European accent was all the more evidence he needed that the kid being robbed was Ryou.

Malik felt himself smiling when he walked up behind the villain. "He's one brave guy, isn't he?"

"M-Malik?" Ryou looked a little confused for a second. He shook his head, his eyebrows set. "Go, or he'll just take your things, too. I'm okay. I swear."

Malik winked at his friend. "I'm not going anywhere."

The guy had turned to him now. He was unarmed, but Malik was willing to bet his power wasn't that great.

"Get the hell out of here," the guy said. "This isn't your concern."

"Did you not get the clues that we know one another? I'm pretty sure that makes it my concern. Just go, and I won't have to beat you up."

"A scrawny guy like you? Go back home and nurse, kid. This is the real deal."

At the comment on his weight, Malik shrugged off his cardigan and tossed it to Ryou, who caught it reflexively.

"I'm going to kick your ass," he said, running at the villain. He surprised him, tackling him to the ground easily.

The two rolled around for a while, establishing dominance. The villain ended up on top last, pulling them both to their feet and shoving Malik against the wall. They wrestled, and from his peripheral, Malik could see Ryou about to jump in. The villain turned out to be a bit stronger than he'd originally suspected, so in a way he was grateful Ryou was so obnoxiously courageous.

Ryou was the one that made the guy run off. He joined the fight, tackling him from the side and throwing a few hard punches blindly, not actually hitting him once. Bravery wasn't such an admirable trait when you were too sweet to back it up.

The villain noticed it too, but probably decided it wasn't worth fighting two morons at once and scrambled off, scaling the nearest wall until he was out of sight.

"Ryou, you do know that fighting generally entitles hitting the other guy, right?" Malik teased. Ryou had held onto his cardigan throughout the whole thing, which he was grateful for since it was still pretty new and he didn't want street grime all over it.

"I didn't want to hurt him," Ryou admitted, grinning and running his free hand over his forearm.

Malik smiled and took his cardigan back, sliding into the soft material. "At least he's gone now. What are you doing out so late? Cute guys like you are bound to attract weirdos like him."

Ryou's blush was evident against his pale skin, and he averted his chocolate eyes like that would hide it. "I, um, was just out getting some…milk."

Malik raised an eyebrow. He was a terrible liar. He decided to prod him a bit, just because he was most adorable when he squirmed. "So where is it?"

"Uh, the milk? I haven't gotten it yet."

That one wasn't so bad. "How about I escort you, then? Wouldn't want anyone else trying to rob you."

"Sure. That would be…" Ryou searched for the word, and just before he said it, his blush returned, and he smiled warmly. "…nice."

The two walked together on the sidewalk. Malik found it kind of fun watching Ryou silently have a minor panic attack about how he didn't need milk, and probably a little bit about the real reason why he was out so late. He liked to think Ryou was a little worked up over his flirting, too.

When the nearest convenience store was in sight, Malik glanced around to see if anyone was looking before yanking Ryou into a side alley and to his favorite place: hidden behind the dumpster.

The other teen let out a surprised yelp, his eyes wide with sudden fear. "Malik!"

"What's the real reason you're out right now?" Malik prompted. He was gentle with Ryou, careful not to hurt him. All he wanted was to get the other out of hearing range of others, in case the reason he had lied in the first place was to prevent all of Domino from hearing.

"Malik, lemme go! I told you, I just want some milk," Ryou said. He wasn't squirming, instead pressing his back against the wall. He wasn't even trying to break free.

Malik found that curious, so he decided to experiment. "I might be inclined to believe that if you had any idea how to lie."

He waited for Ryou's answer ("I'm not lying!") before pressing himself a bit closer to the other boy so their knees were touching. As he'd expected, Ryou squealed again, yanking away. His face was bright red, practically glowing in the moonlight.

Malik's grin should have split his face in two. It hadn't been the answer he was looking for, but it was _something_. "I knew it. You're gay."

Ryou looked like Malik had suddenly pulled a gun out of his ass and he was looking down the barrel. He took a moment to get over his shock before he said, "Please don't tell anyone. Please."

"Gay isn't a plague, Ryou," Malik said, rolling his eyes. "People are a lot more tolerant about it than they used to be, you know."

"But that doesn't mean the whole world needs to know, right?"

"I hate to disappoint you, kid, but the whole world doesn't care."

A hint of a smile tugged at his puffy lips, drawing Malik's attention to them. Damn. He'd never noticed how nice they were. Ryou saw him staring at his lips and he squirmed a bit, making Malik also aware of the fact that they were still knee-to-knee.

He angled his head down at their touching extremities, and before he could even get a good look, they were kissing.

And just for the record, he _hadn't_ been the one to initiate it.

Malik pressed himself against Ryou, noting how muscular he was. It felt really nice, being held by another guy in such an intimate way. He hadn't experienced the sensation of his blood racing, hormones taking over since his last boyfriend, which had been over a year prior.

_God_, Ryou was a great kisser. His lips were smooth and chubby, sucking away at Malik's own in a unique way he'd never felt. His mouth tasted sweet, like he'd just spit out a piece of gum. His hands were everywhere except where he needed them, and when did Malik end up the one who was against the wall?

He heard one of them whimper, and he was almost certain it was him. Malik had always thought Ryou was hiding something, but could it have been some sort of sick sexual life? No one knew naturally how to kiss like that. Maybe he was a prostitute or a sex addict.

Or maybe it didn't matter, because suddenly Ryou was going lower, and Malik became much too preoccupied to worry about whatever secrets he was hiding behind his innocent smile.

.

**A/N: Haters gonna hate. **


	6. Two Out of Three

**A/N: **

**My mental cast list for this story: **

**Demi Lovato as Malik Ishtar  
>Cheshire Cat as Lynx<br>Tohru Honda as Ryou Bakura  
>Matt Parkman as Odion Ishtar<br>Esme Cullen as Ishizu Ishtar  
>The kid from the Home Alone movies as Mariku Ishtar<strong>

_**Just saying.**_

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Seriously. I even used a random word generator to inspire everyone's superhero/villain names and powers. **

**.**

Staying out well into the A.M. on top of looking and smelling like he'd just had sex behind a dumpster made it a dangerous night to be dragged home by the police.

It was Odion who answered the door, deep bags under his eyes from waiting up after a rough day at work. He let out one of those paternally-disappointed-but-also-extremely-relieved sighs.

"I found him in some back alley down 26th, and I thought you might want him back."

"Thanks, Robert. I'll take it from here."

The stocky policeman let go of Malik and offered Odion a sympathetic smile. His older brother returned it and watched his fellow officer walk back to the squad car before shutting the door and turning to Malik.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You said you were going for a walk."

Malik averted his eyes to the worn rug and shook his head slowly. "I ran into a friend and I guess I just lost track of time."

"It's five A.M., Malik. That's not losing track of time—that's negligence. You're grounded until further notice. Go to bed, and you better be up by breakfast time."

Accepting the punishment was all he could do.

.

Malik didn't sleep. His mind kept him awake with thoughts of Ryou. Memories of the hours before.

He felt a little bad about the whole thing, even though he certainly had not engaged it. Not the having-sex-in-a-side-alley part, anyway. Too bad it was the weekend, because when he saw the other at school on Monday, he knew Ryou would blush and stutter out a lame excuse about how he'd really not meant to do that, and it was so improper of him, and gosh, was he _eversosorry_, like the adorable little kid he was.

Malik smirked at the thought, the scenario playing through his mind. He'd try to assure Ryou that nothing was wrong with casual sex every once in a while (_"It was just sex. People do it all the time, and it doesn't have to mean anything at all. Can we still be friends?"_), but he knew the white-haired cutie would never forgive himself.

Malik didn't regret it, though. The kid was breathtaking.

He'd entertained himself with hours of his mind's Ryou Bakura before his alarm clock blared. He backhanded the _shut the fuck up_ button reflexively and pushed his covers off.

Showering was slow, dressing was quick, and breakfast was torture.

.

It was Saturday night and he was grounded.

Malik spent most of the night in his room, catching up on his weekend homework, even though all he really wanted was to put his costume on and slink downtown, maybe have a little fun with Lynx. Malik was still a bit angry with him for running off last time they'd seen each other, but maybe it was for the best. Trying to get close to someone who only pulled away was wasted energy.

Malik was in the middle of writing a 2,000 word essay on the concept of morality for his English class when there was a knock at his door.

"Yeah?"

"Can I come in?" It was Ishizu. It must have been her first day off since she landed her new position.

Malik saved the document on his laptop and minimized his browser. "Sure."

She pushed the door open with her thigh, as her hands were occupied with a glass of apple juice and a plate of baby carrots and celery, no dipping sauce. It took a lot of control for Malik to not roll his eyes.

Ishizu set the snack down on his desk and took a seat at the foot of his bed.

To satisfy her, Malik immediately reached for a celery stick. Celery had hardly any calories, and he knew that digesting it burned off more calories than the actual food contained. It was the safer choice of the two vegetables, even if the small carrots only held about 4 calories per.

As he was choking down the first bite, Ishizu said, "Odion told me how late you were out last night and that when you got home, you looked like you'd been put through hell."

It took even more control for Malik not to smile. Hell wasn't the word he would choose. Outwardly, he shrugged. "I was tired. I had been out with a friend all night."

"Was this friend a boy?"

Malik was shocked into silence. It lasted a moment, his anger bubbling at the lecture he knew was coming. He dropped the half-eaten celery stick back on the plate. "Ishizu, I'm not a kid anymore. If I want to starve myself, I will. If I want to smoke pot, I will. If I want to have sex, I will. I'll be eighteen in a few months. Don't baby me."

Okay, 2/3 wasn't a bad argument.

"I understand that you're almost an adult, Malik, but the choices you've been making are not very mature. That's not who you are."

"You don't know who I am," Malik spat, glaring at his sister. He saw the hurt in her eyes, in the way she pressed her lips together, but he couldn't bring himself to feel bad just yet.

How could she know who he was when even he didn't? He didn't smoke weed, but that didn't make him a saint. He didn't eat, but that didn't make him skinny enough. He didn't fail out of high school, but that didn't make him smart. He didn't obey his guardians, but that didn't make him a bad charge. He _did_ commit crimes daily, but that didn't make him a horrible person.

It made _Fast Fist_ a horrible person. He wasn't sure what all that made _Malik_.

"I know you're feeling like you can't trust us right now, but Odion and I are still your family and we care about you. Mariku does, too, even though he tries to hide it. I want to say that we'll always be here, but if you don't straighten out, you're going to end up isolating yourself from us," Ishizu said. Her eyes held sadness now, her tone even and measured as always. Malik didn't know how to reply, or if he wanted to. He didn't have to, though, because suddenly Ishizu smiled kindly, with a hint of something vibrant in her brown eyes.

"I'd like to meet him, if you don't mind. The boy you were with last night."

Malik felt himself hunch further into his seat, anger soothed by Ishizu's calming nature. "Last night was an accident. It probably won't happen again."

He was saying that a lot lately.

.

It was past midnight before everyone was asleep.

Malik waited until he could hear Mariku snoring in the next room before he got dressed, sliding a pair of violet skinny jeans and a white button-up over his costume. He grabbed his backpack and climbed from his window onto a tree branch. He was on the second story, so not using his power to fly down was risky, but climbing down a tree was a lot safer than pulling a Peter Pan and risking everything on the notion that his neighbors weren't nosy, unless it was an emergency.

Malik escaped his confines easily enough, and before he knew it he was touching ground on the familiar rooftop.

"Hey, kiddo. I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

"Sorry, Louise, but I had better things to do last night," Malik said, crossing his arms effeminately. He'd landed directly in front of Lynx, hoping to at least surprise him. Which he hadn't.

"You had sex," Lynx accused, after giving him a once over.

"H-how did you know that?" Malik almost took a step back, but it was bad enough he'd stuttered. Ryou was contagious.

"I was watching."

There was a pause.

"Are you serious?"

"No, but it's cute that you still have to ask that." Lynx turned his back to Malik and held up a finger thoughtfully. "I had no idea you had sex before you admitted it. You said you had had better things to do, and on my list the only thing better than suiting up and wreaking havoc on low-class morons is sex."

"You're insane," Malik said, though he couldn't help his grin.

"And that's why you stick around. Anywho, we've had enough talk of your slutty personal life, you giant whore. We have a mission tonight, Fafi, my dear."

"As much as I'd love to entertain your every ridiculous whim, I'm actually on a tight schedule tonight."

"You're grounded for having anonymous sex with prostitutes while your guardians were at work."

"Stop that! I am grounded, but he _wasn't_ a prostitute." Malik stepped in front of Lynx so the other would be facing him. It was unnerving how tight Lynx's butt was. He was actually a bit jealous. "I just can't stay out too late tonight."

Lynx ignored his protests, which wasn't exactly startling. "We're going to break into—"

"If you're going to make me do this right now, we've got to hurry. Explain when we get there."

.

"It's a long way, so you should probably conserve your energy so you don't pass out again," Lynx teased as they made their way to their destination.

"It's really not that exhausting to keep up with you," Malik stated, and he wasn't kidding. Lynx's form of hopping rooftop to rooftop as travel was pretty easygoing compared to the amount of energy it took to keep himself aloft for long periods of time. "Where are we going?"

"Patience. You'll see when we get there."

"Fine. What's the contest, at least?"

Lynx snickered. "That's the twist. It's not a contest this time. We're going to work together."

"As a team?"

"That's right, _Thelma_."

"Whatever. What's the _goal_, then?" Malik asked. He wondered why Lynx had suddenly decided that working as a team was necessary after almost a year of soloing.

"We're going to take things."

"Shit, really? God, I hope I can handle that," Malik rolled his eyes. He'd been awake for almost 48 hours now, and he was really regretting suiting up. His bed was starting to sound so comfortable, and it was only around one A.M.

Lynx imitated the sound an angry cat would make, ending the strange jumble of mouth noises with an elongated hiss. He waited for a reaction from Malik, and when nothing came, he said, "Get it? Because I'm cat-based and you're a bitch?"

"Went right over my head. Tell me where we're going now."

"Wow, great timing. We're here," Lynx said. He pointed across the street at a grand two story building. Elaborate columns lined the front of it gracefully, and the double glass doors were framed by a matching arch. The building itself was brick and it looked brand new even though it was almost as old as Malik himself.

"That's the museum where my sister works."

**.**

**A/N: Dear lord, please tell me someone got the Thelma and Louise thing. If you did, huzzah! I suddenly love you. Feel that intrusive, unwanted sensation wrapping around you like a panic attack? Yeah.**

_**Welcome home.**_

**On a note that actually matters, I can't thank you guys enough for reading my writing (I say this all the time, but I can't help how irrevocably grateful I am to every one of you). You guys are the best, and to all my reviewers: you guys are so cute. I know that's a weird thing to say, but I'm serious. Every time I read a review, I fall in love with every one of you a bit more. That's why I reply to every review I can, even if it's just to thank you. Striking up conversation with my readers is just the most important thing to me. Thanks for putting up with my shit, especially the people who reply back and feed my overly-social tendencies. xD**

**Oh yeah, updates. I needed to talk about that. I've been updating, like, every day this weekend because I have no life and nothing to do. Unfortunately, school kind of cramps up my writing time, because I'm a huge late-nighter when it comes to this stuff. Odds are, I won't update much during the week. Which really makes me sad. But whatever. School is (bullshit) important. **


	7. Stage Two: Panic

**A/N: Guys. GUYS. When I sat down to start this Thursday night, I noticed that there was already a file saved under "V7" (I always give my stories a letter, then a number after signifying which chapter it is. This one happens to be V for absolutely no reason other than Domino Institution had taken up 'M' and another failed, un-posted story from a year ago claimed 'B'. My document library is a cryptic mess feared by the general population of South Asia) and LORDY ALMIGHTY did I get excited. I was like, freak yes I get to slack off, finish off this chapter that I'm sure is almost done, thanks to I don't even know maybe a drunken, lonely night or something, and then I open the file and guess what it was. Guess what the fuck it was?**

"_**A/N: *Insert random jumble of ideas that isn't even an author's note here.*"**_

**Way to disappoint me, me. **

**Disclaimer: Do not turn upside down. Do not take in large doses. Do not shake. Do not mix with alcohol. Participating in any of these activities while visiting this Website will encourage the occurrence of health risks such as strokes, diabetes, multiple sclerosis, frequent, unexplained seizures, carpal tunnel syndrome, a serious brain injury called **_**mindfuckosis**_**, and minor death. But not lupus, because it's never lupus. **

**Mommy, did I do it right?**

**.**

_He pointed across the street at a grand two story building. Elaborate columns lined the front of it gracefully, and the double glass doors were framed by a matching arch. The building itself was brick and it looked brand new even though it was almost as old as Malik himself. _

"_That's the museum where my sister works."_

**.**

"Oh, darn. That's really going to create some moral issues, won't it, Fafi?"

The purr in Lynx's tone was much more evident than usual, so Malik easily and correctly concluded that his rival's latest idea that was coincidentally relevant to Malik's home life wasn't much of a coincidence. But then again, with Lynx, nothing was ever a coincidence.

Lynx was looking for a reaction. Some sort of emotional outburst that would make him chicken out before they even got started. Something that would make Malik think, consider his recent choices, and then come crawling back to _Lynxypie_ in the middle of night to comfort him with sweet villainy competition and too many innuendos for something not to be screwed in loose in his brain.

Or maybe he was all too right about the "screwed loose" part and all Lynx was after was to fuck with him.

Either way, Malik wasn't going to give him what he wanted.

"No. It's no problem at all for me," Malik said, glaring at the general area of Lynx's eyes behind his mask. He felt the look being returned, like a small raincloud had formed between them and was ready to burst any second.

"Great," Lynx said. He moved a little towards the museum, but Malik caught his shoulder.

"Hold on."

"Second thoughts?"

"You'd love that, but no. I think we need to wait a second before we tumble in with our heads shoved in our own anuses. This place has super tight security, and it's going to need more than five seconds of thought before we jump in and trip twenty alarms within the first two steps," Malik reasoned, his mouth set in a stubborn line. He wasn't nervous about the "Ishizu's workplace" thing. There was no way anyone could know it was really him behind Fast Fist's purple mask, so, in essence, there was no harm done. What he was worried about was how Lynx had known Ishizu worked there. Malik had said she worked at a museum, but there was more than one in all of Domino.

"Kid, how many times have we done shit like this?" Lynx asked, not skipping a beat.

Malik almost lost his words, stuck in his own mentality. "Never."

"Exactly. Do you think I'd fuck up our first time?" Lynx accented the words _first time_ with amusement, but Malik knew he was otherwise serious. No way would Lynx allow himself to mess up a simple fifth class felony.

"What'd you do? Take out all the security guards before you brought me here?" Malik teased, though he was genuinely curious about how Lynx could be so sure…other than his natural arrogance and general asshattery glowing in its prime.

"Fafi! That would be reckless," Lynx countered, but Malik could definitely hear a smile in his tone. After a brief pause, he continued. "If you absolutely _must_ know, I had a friend go in during business hours and rig the surveillance and trips."

Malik felt his eyes go wide. "You have _friends_?"

"If you count the pedestrians I threaten with knives and force to do very nasty, very illegal things for me, then yes, Fafi. Yes, I do." His voice was coated thickly with a brand of fake sarcasm Malik knew well.

"You're totally lying," Malik accused, slugging him on the arm.

Lynx let out a muffled, involuntary sound of surprise and raised his hand to his arm. "About…?"

"You really did have a friend do that for you, not some scared shitless stranger," Malik said, crossing his arms adamantly. "You have a tell, you know."

"Whatever," Lynx huffed, which drew a smile out of Malik, because it was pretty much a confession.

"So…your friend. Are you sure we can trust him?" Malik wondered aloud, even though he knew the answer. Honestly, he was more curious about the friend than the infallibility of him.

Lynx snorted, cocking his head to accent his point that Malik's question was ridiculous. "Of course we can. This friend is particularly _close_, if you know what I mean."

His last words were drawn out as if to imply something, but Malik had absolutely no idea what, and he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore, judging by the way Lynx's mask was twisting grossly upward at the mouth.

"Whatever that means," He said, then finished with: "Let's do this. I have to get home soon."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to miss church," Lynx taunted as he pushed himself off the rooftop they had been talking on and landing on his feet halfway across the museum's.

Malik simply willed himself upward, finding the task to have become much easier since his guardians had started monitoring his eating. But being strong made no difference if he was too fat to fit into his costume. God help his future victims of he ended up having to sew himself a new one.

When Malik touched ground, Lynx had already broken into the building's rooftop entrance, and he was leaning against the open door, arms crossed like he'd been standing there for hours.

"Took you damn long enough. If it's that much of an effort to use your powers, you should probably consider going on a diet consisting of more than your own saliva."

Malik rolled his eyes, shoving Lynx into the door with his elbow as he passed by him. "Fuck you."

He hadn't told Lynx about his family's new habit of practically shoving food down his throat, and some part of him thought the reason was because he actually enjoyed the berating. Well, not really the berating itself, but the suspected reason behind it. If Lynx bothered to tease him so much about his totally-not-an-eating-disorder, then that meant he cared whether or not Malik ate.

The twisted side of him found comfort in knowing that someone outside his family cared that much about him, and he let himself cling to it.

"I know you want to, but jeez, kiddo, we're in the middle of a burglary, here." Lynx's voice was hushed as they made their way down the fire escape-like stairs, their footsteps causing small echoes throughout the small space.

It wasn't a terribly long walk, but the place was pretty creepy.

The inside wasn't much better, either. The main lights were turned off, but the lights surrounding the exhibits and a few emergency lights remained stubbornly aglow. The radiance surrounding the artifacts made each a hundred times more enchanting, especially a certain exhibition in the ancient Egypt section of the museum.

"This place is like a secondhand store," Malik whispered, as if terrified to break the eerie silence in the normally very lively and well-off public treasure. It would be all over the press when it was discovered the place had been robbed.

Lynx nodded, not entirely paying attention to his partner in crime. He was very much distracted by a golden artifact from the same Egyptian exhibit Malik had been scoping out. The one he was looking at seemed to be a necklace, albeit one that was extremely gaudy. It was on a thick chain, and the charm was a full ring the size of Malik's entire torso. In the center, a pyramid shape met the inside of the ring at each point and an eye-looking symbol was engraved in the center. The ring was rimmed on the bottom half with spikes that looked much too sharp to be so close to one's vital organs, but Lynx seemed entranced by it.

"I'm going to take this," he said, putting a hand to the glass encasing. With his other, he pushed past his glove and reached into the sleeve of the offending hand. Malik wasn't sure if he was surprised when the other extracted a knife.

"What are you going to do with that?" Malik asked, eyeing it a bit nervously.

"Obviously I'm going to gut you clean if you don't hurry and find something," Lynx threatened, but it was definitely empty. Probably.

Malik looked around. Where they were at, they barely had a fourth of the museum's contents in view, but he figured that if Lynx was going to rush him, he had to choose from what was in front of him.

"This," he said after some consideration. He pointed to an artifact in the same exhibit as the one Lynx had chosen, except his was a lot cooler. It was clearly a scepter, with a sphere at the tip, and shapes that resembled bat wings protruding from it. It bore the same eye marking as the ring, which was a bit creepy. The handle tapered into a point, almost like a blade.

"Alright. Let's blow this popsicle stand," Lynx said. Before Malik could question his wording, his crazy rival smashed the hilt of his knife into his artifact's glass encasing. An alarm blared, but Lynx didn't hesitate to break the barrier blocking Malik's new possession from him. They scrambled out of the museum, treasures cradled in their arms.

"Welcome to stage two, Fafi. Panic," Lynx said breathlessly as they hitched it, the cool night wind slapping them in the faces.

They could still hear the alarm by the time they were well down the street.

.

Monday morning came too quickly.

At first, Malik had kind of been looking forward to seeing Ryou's cute, flustered face when they had their "morning after the morning after the morning after" moment, but now that the school's front doors were in sight, as well as the white-haired teen in question, he found himself overtaken by a firm sense of guilt.

When Ryou had kissed him, that's where it should have ended. The guy was nice, but Malik knew during foreplay that Ryou would regret having sex with him, which was something Ryou hadn't, oddly enough, seemed to consider. It was weird because the kiss was bold for him. Lying about why he'd been out so late was bold for him. Coming out, though indirect and very much forced, was bold for him. Even sticking up to the third-rate villain that night had been pretty daring for someone like Ryou Bakura.

That night, he just hadn't been at all like himself, and the curiosity about that is what drove Malik to catch up to him at his locker and tap on his shoulder.

Ryou closed his locker gently, chocolate milk eyes meeting Malik's piercing lavender.

He smiled. He freaking smiled, and not even awkwardly. "G'morning, Malik."

"Good morning yourself," Malik said, though he heard a tint of confusion in his own words.

"How are you today?"

Malik searched his face, but the only sign of any awkwardness he was displaying was a light blush peppering his nose and cheeks like cinnamon on powdered sugar.

"Uh, great, but can we cut the pleasantries? We seriously need to talk," he said, deciding that if Ryou wasn't going to react on his own, then Malik had to make him.

At that moment, the bell rang, signifying the start of first period. Ryou glanced from the speaker above their heads to Malik's set eyes a few times before nodding, deciding that talking to a serious Malik was worth missing a few minutes of notes.

Malik backpedaled into an empty outing in the hallway where the door to a long-abandoned janitorial closet was. The crowd of sleepy high school kids passed by without a single glance, which was what he'd been aiming for.

"Are you okay?" Malik began, taking in every part of Ryou's face, which was wide and chubby, open and innocent like a young child, yet to be jaded by the cruelty of humankind. Malik knew he wasn't naïve, but he sure looked it.

"Of course I am," Ryou replied. The lack of confusion on his face told Malik he knew what the discussion was about, but if that was true, why wasn't he reacting?

"_Why_?" He felt bad that that was all he could think to say, but it was a legitimate question.

Ryou chuckled, his wide, cute smile seemingly permanent. "What we did Friday…it helped me. I mean, before that, I was really confused. I know I kind of said I'm gay, but honestly it had just been a suspicion, but I knew you wouldn't accept that answer, so I just outright said it, and then when you told me that thing about gay not being a plague, I just felt so…"

"Turned on?" Malik tried, eliciting the deep blush he'd been searching for.

"Not quite, no," Ryou said. "More like…inspired. Yeah. Inspired that you could be so at terms with your sexuality."

"So you're not upset?" Malik said, his eyebrows knitting together. He leaned against the wall, head cocked in curiosity.

"No, not at all. In a way, I needed that. It really made me think about who I am."

"You're not upset in the least." Malik must have been missing something. He searched Ryou for the answer, coming up painfully short…

…Until Ryou spoke his next words:

"Malik, it was just a kiss."

There was a long silence in which Malik flipped almost every shit he owned. Surely, Ryou was pranking him. Or he was dreaming. Or he'd dreamed Friday—meaning the part where they'd _hardcore screwed in a side alley_.

"What's wrong?" Ryou prompted, stepping closer to catch Malik's downcast gaze. He gripped Malik's jacket sleeve in the process, which was what forced him to look Ryou in the eyes again.

"I don't know which one of us is missing something, but I remember a hell of a lot more than a kiss," Malik said. He watched as Ryou's expression turned from worry to downright terror, and he slightly regretted mentioning the sex.

"Oh no…" Ryou breathed, pulling his hand away from Malik and running both through his long hair. "I am _so_ sorry."

"No, it's fine, don't—" _Beat yourself up about it._

"I am so, so, so, so sorry," Ryou said. He looked downright near tears, and his expression was molded with nothing but fear.

"Hey, calm down…"

"I can't believe I did that. I am never leaving my house again. It's not safe anymore. No, that wouldn't solve anything. Oh, God, I'm so sorry!"

Malik quirked an eyebrow as Ryou ranted for almost an entire minute, not paying any mind to anything he said to comfort him. Eventually, Malik got tired of hearing him ramble, so he interrupted him with a last resort move: mimicking what he'd done on Friday, pinning the short, but broader boy against the wall and looking his directly in his wide, panicked eyes.

"Look," Malik opened. "It was _just sex_. It happens every day, to millions of people. Hell, I bet some people are probably having it in this school right now."

Ryou's panic didn't dissolve, but he looked slightly calmer. Calm enough to glance down and realize how close they were to each other, which made Malik realize how minty-sweet his breath smelled past his chubby lips.

Malik did the wisest thing he could think of, releasing the shorter boy and taking a big step back.

Ryou tucked some of his bangs behind his ear, his movement made irrelevant when his bangs tumbled back into his eyes. "It's not the…the _relations_ I'm worried about."

Malik cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head, prompting a silent, _"Then what is it?"_

Ryou glanced behind the taller, tanner boy at the latecomers passing by in the halls. "I've been having blackouts," he said, lowering his voice so Malik could barely hear him over the small crowd of passersby.

"Like, blanks in your memory?"

"Exactly," the white-haired teen replied. He licked his lips, then pulled his bottom one into his mouth to chew on.

"So what you're saying is…" Malik began. "You had a blackout Friday, and you don't remember anything."

Ryou tilted his head from side-to-side. "Kind of. I remember running into you, then going into the alley, then talking to you, then kissing you, and then you saying good night, putting your hands in your pockets and leaving."

"Huh." Malik grinned. "Cool."

**.**

**A/N: This chapter was a blast for me. Surely it had nothing to do with Ryou and that last scene that I've been planning since the moment the twisted idea of the alley scene entered my brain. :P **

**Thanks for supporting me, my loverlies. *Hearts all around, baby.***


	8. Blackout

**A/N: I made a cast list for this story, so I'm just going to go ahead and reveal the theme song, too: Bad Romance by Lady GaGa. **

**That's been the theme since before I wrote it, back when it was a little baby idea developing in my imagination's uterus. I can't seem to ever write something unless it has a theme song. **

**Hmm. **

**I NEED TO DOWNLOAD MORE MUSIC.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

**.**

The rest of Malik's school day passed by smoothly, him and Ryou sharing meaningful glances in the halls when they passed one another. Malik wasn't entirely sure what they meant, but Ryou looked just as scared and worked up as he had before first period, so it was all he could do to offer the poor guy comfort. It was his fault, after all.

Well, the sex part was. Or at least him knowing about it.

Malik caught his arm on his way to the student parking lot, stopping him in the middle of an eager crowd.

"Ryou, why don't you come over to my place for a while?" he offered, quirking an eyebrow.

Ryou's frown set the world off its axis. "I'd love to, and thanks for the offer, but I have to study for the history test tomorrow."

"What a coincidence. So do I," Malik said, tossing him and wink and turning slightly. He took a step toward his motorcycle, motioning for Ryou to follow.

Malik felt himself grow physically lighter when the shorter teen gave him a smile, though it was heavily weighted, and followed behind him.

"I've never ridden one of these before," Ryou admitted, holding his fist to his lips shamefully.

"Riding's a lot easier than driving it, kiddo." He grabbed his helmet out of the side pouch and strapped it on Ryou, strands of white hair poking out all around the rim. He took his own seat and patted the sun-heated leather behind him. "Hop on."

Ryou mounted the contraption, holding loosely onto Malik's jacket sleeves. As they sped up, Ryou's grip became tighter, lowering to his waistline, and Malik had to remind himself that the last thing Ryou needed was another sexcapade.

When he pulled into his own driveway, Malik was a bit shocked to see that everyone—including Ishizu—was home.

He lifted himself off his bike, smoothing out his hair from the ride and helping Ryou out of his helmet, which was probably a bit too big for him, judging by the way it was reaching down to block the top half of his field of vision.

"Alright," Malik said as he lifted the helmet off of his friend, white strands of hair tangling in with the straps. "When my sister offers us a crap ton of food, just accept it. She's relentless. My older brother—the one with black hair—looks tough, but he's harmless. And Mariku…well, you know just to avoid eye contact."

They shared a smile over mention of Malik's slightly-off-his-rocker older twin, and Malik lead the way to the front door. His hand on the door handle, he turned once more to Ryou.

"And if anyone asks, you're the person I was with Friday, whether you remember it or not." He didn't want his family thinking he was some sort of whore, sleeping with different guys every week.

Ryou nodded, his eyes averted to the concrete walkway. Malik could tell he was feeling a bit of trepidation about coming over, but what Ryou needed most was someone to talk to. Malik may have been dragged into the situation unwittingly, but that didn't mean he didn't feel extremely guilty about somewhat being the cause of Ryou's panic, via not being able to keep his zipper up.

The two made it through the living room without passing by anyone but Mariku, who was on the Xbox and didn't notice them anyway, but when they passed the kitchen, Ishizu definitely saw him and called out, "Malik, could you come here for a moment? I need you to get something for me."

Malik looked at Ryou, mouthing, "_Damn_," though his grin made it obvious Ishizu wouldn't make a big deal out of his classmate's presence. He peeked into the kitchen, where his sister stood, head-to-toe covered in baking ingredients, over the sink, trying not to make a mess all over the room.

"My God. You're baking?" Malik said, overdoing his 'surprised' voice.

Ishizu flushed, obviously embarrassed at her incompetence in the kitchen. "Sugar free cookies."

Malik smile faltered a little, Ishizu's doing the same when her eyes fell on their guest.

"Oh, hello," she greeted him, grabbing a towel to clean off her hands. She approached Ryou, forgetting her former attempts at keeping the mess in one area of the room.

"Uh, hello, Miss…Ishtar?" Ryou sounded much too awkward, but Ishizu smiled.

"Ishizu," she corrected, taking Ryou's hand and shaking it gently. "Might you be one of Malik's classmates?"

Malik knew her real question was, _"Might you be Malik's boyfriend?"_, but he wasn't sure if Ryou did. Judging by his blush, he got the idea.

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm Ryou Bakura. We're going to study together for a test we have tomorrow," Ryou replied, trying to make their study session sound like just that. Which it totally was.

Ishizu looked at Malik for confirmation, and when he nodded, she smiled at Ryou. "You know, Ryou, the museum I work at has a very thorough exhibition on medieval Europe, in case you're ever interested in your heritage and decide to drop by."

At the mention of the museum, Malik held back the urge clear his throat and change the subject. The scepter he'd taken was stashed away very carefully in his closet, packed up with some of his older shoes and other things he'd not touched in years. He figured as long as no one got the sudden urge to sell his entire childhood to charity, then it'd be safe from discovery.

"Oh, is my accent really that bad?" Ryou said, covering his mouth with his fingers.

"Your accent is fine," Malik interjected, mostly just to make sure he wouldn't fall noticeably silent. "It's cute, I swear."

Okay, maybe he was also trying to give Ishizu a subtle warning not to barge in on them, but it was definitely mostly the other thing.

His words earned him a stark eyebrow raise from his sister, and a shy smile from Ryou. He rocked on his feet a bit awkwardly for a moment, trying to figure a way out of the awkward silence he'd created.

"Hey, we should get started, Ryou," Malik said, placing a hand on the small of Ryou's back to lead him out of the kitchen.

They left Ishizu to her "baking", but their trials weren't quite over yet.

However, Odion was much briefer, dismissing himself for work when they ran into him in the hall and calling behind him as he pecked down the stairs, "Keep it PG, you two."

Malik smiled and as soon as his room door shut, cutting them off from the rest of the house, Malik cut to the chase:

"So tell me about these blackouts."

"I thought we were studying," Ryou said, but his expression told the Egyptian teen that he'd known studying wasn't exactly first on Malik's list of things to do. Both boys took a seat on the bed, close enough to be friends, and far enough apart to stay just that.

"Do you want to talk to someone about this or not? Judging by the way you looked when you told me, I'm assuming I'm the only person who knows."

Ryou hesitated, falling silent and staring at the carpet contemplatively. It was a very long time before the silence was broken, and Malik had begun to think Ryou was going to dodge the subject until he said, "I wanna talk to you."

He looked up at Malik through his thick eyelashes, determination mixed with fear clouding his chocolate eyes. He went quiet again, and Malik realized he was supposed say something encouraging.

"Go ahead."

Before speaking, Ryou rubbed his lips together and swallowed hard, averting his eyes to the door handle of Malik's closet, on which a hanger holding a pair of fake leather jeggings was hooked. He wondered if Ryou even realized what he was looking at.

"They started just before I moved here. Something, er, happened with my family, so my father sent me here to finish my studies. It was right after the _thing_ happened that the blackouts took over. I just lose parts of my memory, like I'm sleeping, and when I come to, I'm somewhere else. Just Saturday, I blacked out in my apartment and woke up sitting on a bench in the park, holding a cup of coffee six hours later."

Malik took in the information. "Maybe you're just sleepwalking."

Ryou shook his head. "It can't be. I don't have to be sleeping or even laying down for it to happen."

"What else could it be?"

"Lots of things," the white-haired boy said, shrugging his enviably thin but muscled shoulders. His doe-brown eyes flickered over to Malik, brow creasing together in worry. He looked lost. He looked frightened. He looked goddamn near hopeless, ensnared by his own thoughts and worries.

Malik felt himself soften considerably, and he put a hand on his friend's shoulder, offering a consoling smile that was probably more awkward than anything. "Look, it's probably nothing. If it's bothering you so much, just go to the doctor."

"I did," Ryou admitted, somewhat hesitantly and with a stark refusal to meet Malik's lavender eyes. "They…he said I'm just sleepwalking, too. But he doesn't get it. It's not sleepwalking."

"They?" It was faint and very much accidental, but Malik had heard a '_they'_ at the beginning of that. "How many doctors have you been to this for?"

"Please don't think I'm crazy, or a hypochondriac, or…well, I guess they're kind of the same thing, but you know what I mean. It's just I know it's not sleepwalking because there's something _wrong_ with me, Malik. I can feel it and I know it's there and please just believe me because no one else does and I'm…_I'm fucking scared_!" Instead of looking away, Ryou kept eye contact firmly throughout his outburst, which Malik found shocking. He'd never witnessed Ryou so loud or confidant in himself or any of the traits he boasted with his small rant.

Malik wondered which Ryou was a front; the current one or that blushed and smiled and giggled at everything. He figured the latter was more likely, and all the while he'd been hitting on the poor guy, drawing him out of his comfort zone of acting like a near-brainless, cute gay kid and into the real world where he was raw and afraid, but determined and at least a little bit confident.

He had to give the kid props. Maybe make him a cardboard Grammy or something.

As Malik was dissecting the nooks and crannies of Ryou's personality, a few seconds of silence passed, in which he probably looked surprised and sympathetic at the same time, which was a strange mix that probably looked dumb.

Ryou—he looked like an injured puppy, like he was about to slink off and clean his wounds, tail between his legs in submission.

"I think you know your body and you know when something's wrong," Malik stated evenly after another moment, taking in Ryou's expression. It lightened a bit when he realized Malik wasn't going to criticize him, and a teeny smile wrestled with the muscles around his mouth.

"Thank you."

Malik nodded, his eyes fixed on Ryou as he blinked back tears that had threatened to fall. He really was a lot stronger than he let on, and Malik was beginning to actually respect him.

They began to study, and neither realized how late it had gotten until there was a knock on the door, and Mariku's pleasant voice chimed through the wood:

"Yo, faggots, it's time for dinner."

They met eyes in surprise, and Malik glanced out the window. It was already well past sundown.

"Are you staying to eat?" he asked, closing his history book and sliding it out of his lap.

"I wouldn't want to impose," Ryou said, his features contorted in nervousness.

Malik shook his head. "Don't even worry about it. My family won't mind."

.

Ishizu's cookies had been a bust, and ruined the kitchen past repair in time for dinner, so Malik's sister had ended up ordering pizza.

It wasn't Malik's first choice, but he nibbled a bit on the tip of one piece for almost half an hour.

"Malik, are you going to eat that?" Ishizu asked, breaking what had been a very long silence. (Another protective sister - English translation: "_Boy, if you don't shovel that down, I'll shovel it for you, plus one more slice_.")

"Of course," he replied, taking a "big" bite. The taste made him cringe.

Ishizu smiled, though she knew he wasn't going to eat more judging by the bitterness behind the gesture.

"So, Ryou."

Ryou's eyes shot up from his plate, and he looked almost terrified. "Yes?"

"How long have you known Malik?" Ishizu continued, taking a bite of her own pizza. She was on her second and last slice.

"A while," he said, smiling brilliantly.

"And you two are dating?" She pressed on, and Malik felt a thick, tweed blanket of awkward cover the entire room.

(This is when Mariku got up, making barf gestures, and dashed dramatically to the bathroom, leaving Ishizu, Malik and Ryou alone, since Odion ((Malik and Ryou's only saving grace)) was at work.)

"Well…" Ryou trailed off, his pizza abandoned as he absently braided a strand of his hair.

"No, we're not," Malik replied for him. "Not officially, anyway."

"What?" Ishizu and Ryou said at the same time. The two exchanged glances, Ryou blushing brightly and Ishizu looking confused.

"This is the boy you were out with a few nights ago, right?" She sounded a bit accusing, her eyes narrowed slightly, complementing her "_okay, something's not right here_" attitude.

Malik nodded. "Yes."

The unspoken reply was, "_My brother is a slut_."

The rest of dinner was silent, and Ryou went home directly afterwards.

.

**A/N: Shitty ending is shitty. B)**


	9. Chance

**A/N: Boo! :)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**.**

After dinner Ryou had gone home, Mariku went back to his game, Ishizu went up to her study, and Malik went to his room.

Just a few days into his grounding and he was already bored to death, even though he hadn't really spent much of his grounding…well, grounded.

Malik attempted sleep first. He was exhausted, full of three quarters of a slice of pizza, and avoiding his homework. He wasn't quite sure how long it took him to realize he wasn't going to get any sleep, but definitely before midnight, he found himself tugging into a pair of denim straight-legged jeans and a purple- and navy blue-striped t-shirt—both of which were baggy on him—over his costume.

He felt like a straight guy.

Nevertheless, Malik slung his backpack over his shoulder and climbed through his window, as he had done the last time he sneaked out. Before he knew it, he was in his full bodysuit, backpack hidden far away and out of Lynx's stalking radius, and his feet were touching down gently on his and Lynx's rooftop.

"Good evening," greeted his not-so rival without even turning to look at him.

Malik didn't say anything, climbing to the ledge of the building and taking a seat next to Lynx, who was on his back, sprawled dangerously on the edge of the building as he participated in a staring contest with the moon.

There was a very long silence. A comfortable, calming silence that Malik hesitated to break with:

"How did you know my sister works at that museum?"

Lynx's chest deflated noisily through parted lips, as if he'd just taken a drag from a too-strong cigarette. "It was a coincidence, Fafi."

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was."

"No."

"Yes."

"_Lynx_."

"Fafi."

"I'm serious." Malik raised his eyebrows and looked at the general area of Lynx's eyes under his mask. "How'd you know?"

Lynx sighed again and sat up, flipping his legs over the edge of the building and leaning back on his palms. He was quiet for a long time, and eventually Malik realized he wasn't going to answer.

"Do you know who I am?" Malik asked, leaning closer to Lynx as if that would draw out a response.

"Unless you want to do something fun, kid, go home," Lynx said after a short moment, in which the cold breeze cut through the distance between them.

"I have a right to know."

"And I have a right to not tell you."

"Have you followed me home? For real?"

"You're ridiculous," Lynx said, and Malik knew he was rolling his eyes.

"How is me wondering if I'm being _stalked_ ridiculous?" he demanded, almost standing up just so he could look down on his partner and cross his arms.

"Yes, because stalking you is honestly all I live for."

"At this point, I wouldn't fucking be surprised." Malik glared at Lynx even though he couldn't see it; even though he was still calm through Malik's accusations. "Look, if you want to know something about me, _ask_. I've told you before that I wouldn't mind being _actual friends_ instead of this…this _whatever_. But I don't appreciate you going behind my back and acting like a Goddamn creep."

Lynx began to laugh, and that set Malik off more than anything else he possibly could have thought to do.

"Fafi, you are quite the individual, you know that? A lunatic, really," the white-clad villain said, a hand on his stomach, stray chuckles escaping his lips here and there.

Malik silently glowered at his rival, his cheeks flushed with rage under his mask. Instead of giving in to another outburst, he chose to hold his tongue, waiting for Lynx to elaborate.

"No, I haven't been 'stalking' you. You said you sister works at a museum and I figured that one was the most likely because it's the biggest in the area." Lynx's blank mask stared at Malik as he spoke. "Really, give me some credit."

Malik blew out a load of carbon dioxide, somewhat relieved. There was the chance that Lynx was lying, but there was just as much of a chance that he wasn't. Honestly, his white-clad companion probably wouldn't admit it either way, and Malik figured there wasn't much more that he could do other than quiet down about it and keep an extra eye open from now on.

"What are we doing tonight, then?" Malik wondered, tracing the white and lavender accents on his forearm.

"I was thinking a moonlit dinner on the river. We could split a bottle of chardonnay and listen to smooth jazz," Lynx purred, and if he were a real cat his tail would have been swishing behind him, his pupils dilated twice their normal size. Malik briefly wondered what color his eyes were before he shook off the curiosity. No need for both of them to be stalkers.

"No?" Lynx said after a short silence. "Then you come up with something."

Malik looked down at his feet hanging off the side of the building, his toes wiggling against the backdrop of a busy street. The lights glowed and kept the city alive, specking the tall buildings and bridges, houses and roads like gold nuggets in the soil.

"Let's just sit here."

Malik found himself absorbed by the view, watching the cars pass by, unaware of his looming presence, his lavender eyes watching them and wondering where they were going and if they had someone to go home to. As another zipped by, he was pulled from his trance by Lynx.

"Bo-oring," he drawled, picking at a loose thread on his suit. "Fafi, we really should talk about a proper diet plan for you if it's—"

"No, just think about it. We're so close to owning this town, Lynx. We've done so much these last few weeks," he said. "Every day there's more stuff on the news about the anonymous crimes going on."

Lynx shifted positions suddenly, sliding off the ledge and onto his feet. "That reminds me."

Malik watched as Lynx began to pace, which seemed to have become his new 'plotting' habit.

"We've entered stage two." Lynx paused for dramatics, pointedly swiveling around and looking at Malik before continuing his pacing. "Stage two is a critical part of our plan. This is where things have begun to get serious."

Malik raised an eyebrow, now fully turned around so his back was to the city and left foot rested on the rooftop, the other crossed effeminately over his knee. "Okay, well I don't—"

"Shh!" Lynx held up a hand to silence him. "Listen. As I said, this is _critical_."

His English accent curled dangerously around the word "critical".

"We're calling this stage 'panic' because people are starting to get more than just worried about recent events and scenarios you and I have caused." Lynx continued to pace. "In this stage, we will more than likely run into the heroes a bit more and we will have to be a lot sneakier about what we do."

Malik nodded, slightly unnerved by how serious Lynx's tone was. There weren't many other times when there'd been a distinct lack of sarcasm and teasing behind his words, and the thought almost gave him chills. The Egyptian teen was almost as entranced by the rare occurrence as he was by the magnificent view.

"So basically, don't fuck up."

Nevermind.

.

It was another week before Malik was ungrounded.

It was announced at dinner (whole wheat pasta with low sodium alfredo sauce and grilled chicken) and Malik smiled halfheartedly. It didn't really matter to him whether or not he was grounded because he was going to sneak around anyway. His main concern at the moment was the steaming meal on the plate in front of him.

More and more, he was growing tired of his family shoveling food down his throat. He felt himself growing fatter and fatter by the day when all he wanted was to get thinner. The mirror mocked him so bad he had begun to shower only semi-regularly, as nasty as it was.

He needed to do something.

Malik choked down what was on his plate and found himself throwing out a fake yawn. "Guys, I have to head to bed. I have to be at school early tomorrow for a project. Ryou and I were partnered in history to do a presentation on early human migration, so don't be surprised when I'm not here in the morning."

That way he could skip breakfast.

He went upstairs to his room and locked the door behind him.

.

By the time two A.M. rolled around, Malik still wasn't tired.

However, he had grown bored of committing the same crimes over and over, being as "sneaky" as possible just to get his mind off everything while his body burned off calories.

He hadn't even stopped by the rooftop tonight because he honestly did not want to be around anyone, even the one person that made him feel like he could be himself, which was weird since he was wearing a mask and costume and Lynx was the only person he knew that (probably) didn't know him as the exotic teenage boy named Malik Ishtar. What did that say about Malik?

Malik (Fast Fist?) was in one of those moods where nothing was going right and all he wanted was to beat his head against the wall until he was in a coma. (Coma diets are magic. He'd lose so much!) He found himself, instead, touching ground on the dumpster by the record store where he sometimes left his stuff before school. It was smelly and disgusting, but also isolated and quiet and that's what he wanted.

Before he could do much thinking, though, a high-pitched voice called out to him from the opening of the alleyway.

He turned and saw the big, sweet eyes of Domino's own Sorcery Chance.

.

**A/N: Yeah it's been over a year, I know. But I was kind of hoping to take this story somewhere still because it's weird how much I think about it. I'm so glad I finally got around to uploading another chapter to this and I really hope you guy enjoy it!**


	10. Friends

**A/N: To avoid confusion because I don't really know if it's obvious enough:**

**Sorcery Chance – Yugi  
>Wolf Bite – Joey<br>Azure Magicmancer – Tea**

**I had to read through this story before I could start working on it again and I'm just wondering why no one has accused me of being a lunatic because of my weird a/n's and disclaimers. I actually do kind of remember deciding I'd do a really batshit disclaimer for each chapter because it gets really boring seeing the same ones over and over but still omg I'm such a weirdo.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. (Lol I'm a hypocrite.)**

**.**

_Malik (Fast Fist?) was in one of those moods where nothing was going right and all he wanted was to beat his head against the wall until he was in a coma. (Coma diets are magic. He'd lose so much!) He found himself, instead, touching ground on the dumpster by the record store where he sometimes left his stuff before school. It was smelly and disgusting, but also isolated and quiet and that's what he wanted._

_Before he could do much thinking, a high-pitched voice called out to him from the opening of the alleyway._

_He turned and saw the big, sweet eyes of Domino's own Sorcery Chance._

.

"Lookie here, pal," Sorcery Chance began, his short arms crossed and his body set in a proud, heroic stance. "We've got some things to talk about with you!"

A deep growl that was a lot less menacing than it should have been given Malik's 'I could totally go for murdering a helpless child right now' mood rolled from the tall figure behind Sorcery Chance. "Sorce, lemme handle this clown. I'll take him out right here and we'll get this settled tonight."

The pair seemed to be alone, missing the female of the trio. Malik briefly wondered where she was before he remembered that he didn't care. Sorcery Chance and his companion, the tall, slender dog-based hero named Wolf Bite were a big enough inconvenience without the obnoxious, large-breasted Azure Magicmancer to stink up the alley worse than the dumpster.

Malik eyed the two heroes, an eyebrow raised even though they couldn't see. He let out a sigh. "Guys, I'm really not in the mood for this tonight, so if you don't mind, fuck off."

"No way Fast _Loser, _you're not getting away that easy," Wolf Bite said, his brash insult sounding even more stupid with his accent thrown in.

Sorcery Chance looked at his companion. "Well, if he's having a bad night, maybe we should just go and see if he wants to talk later. I mean it's not like he's doing anything wrong…"

Sometimes Malik wondered how people as naiive as this kid made it through natural selection. Technically, he should have been grateful for the kid's kindness, but honestly the scene unfolding before him was the very reason he and Lynx had been so successful in their mission. The heroic trio was pretty much just a joke.

"Exactly. I'm seriously just sitting here. What the hell do you guys want?" Malik hopped off the dumpster and brushed off his bum.

"We want answers," Sorce said, ignoring the defensive stance Wolf Bite took at his side. WB was loyal, just like his themed creature, standing at his master's side and waiting for the command to go. Malik pondered fleetingly why the two were so close before he once again remembered that he really didn't care that much.

"And we have a proposal."

His interest was a little bit piqued by the last part, but he didn't let it show. "Answers to what?"

"Do you know who is causing all this mischief, Fast Fist?" The look in Sorcery Chance's eyes was serious, but hopeful. Maybe he thought Malik was jealous of whoever was stealing the spotlight from him—jealous enough to rat him out.

"Maybe. What does it matter? It's not like you guys could do anything about it even if you knew," Malik wore a proud smirk, and if his hair was down, he would have flipped it sassily.

"Why I oughtta—!"

Sorcery Chance cut WB off with an outstretched hand, and the dog stopped barking, steaming quietly at his master's flank.

"So that means you don't know who it is," he stated, his childlike voice sounding much too grave to fit his personality. Maybe he had a small amount of brains after all, but it took some digging to get it out.

Malik stayed silent, leaning against the dumpster coolly.

"Well, do you want to help us find out?" Sorcery Chance asked the question much too casually, wolf Bite tense at his side, like he would pounce at any second and rip the Egyptian villain up with his bare hands.

"And what do I get out of this little deal?" He asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Sorcery Chance smiled, though there was something behind it. Shame, maybe. "We won't bother you for three months. You can do whatever you want, as long as no one is physically injured. Does that sound good?"

Malik let the alley fall silent for a long time, until he noted a decent amount of nerves building up in Sorcery Chance's eyes—the only part of his body aside from his mouth that was visible through his costume.

"Look kid," he began, a small smile on his lips. He let the words out eerily calmly and quietly, echoing through the alley: "I don't know what kind of traitorous shit you may be, but don't you _dare_ think that I would _ever_ take part in your little preschool triad. Fuck you both, and don't ever talk to me again."

Malik had already started willing himself off the ground, and with that, he left the two heroes with egg on their faces, his mood slightly lifted knowing he'd showed them up.

.

First period wasn't for another hour, but Malik found himself fully dressed in the same pants he'd worn the day before and a baggy t-shirt that he'd changed into for dinner the previous night, walking up the stairs leading to the school.

Since he had that excuse about having to leave home early and he'd stayed out so late, he didn't see the need in going back home at all. He didn't even have his bike, because he figured if he had to he could get a ride home from Mariku or Ryou, or even fly home and lie about getting a ride with Ryou.

He was mess, having not slept the night before and doing the most out-of-character thing and showing up to school looking like a straight fifteen-year-old boy.

Not much of him cared—except for when he heard Ryou's voice call out his name. The he got a bit more self-conscious, reaching up to fix his hair before turning to face his friend (that's right, friend and only _friend_).

"Hey Ryou," he greeted with a smile. "Why are you here so early?"

"Oh, uh, no reason. I just couldn't wait for…school," Ryou faltered, tugging at his shirt sleeve.

Malik raised an eyebrow. "So do you want to tell me the real reason you're here?"

Ryou looked scared for a moment, but he seemed to have a thought that relaxed him and he smiled. "Oh, that's right. You know about the blackouts now. I woke up in my car here and I, uh, saw you. And I was just wondering if you're okay?"

"I'm fine, I just didn't really sleep last night so I decided to leave a little early," Malik lied, feeling slightly guilty for forcing Ryou to be honest with him but never really returning the favor.

"Well where's your motorbike?" He inquired, looking around with his big mocha eyes.

It was Malik's turn to falter, chuckling and averting his eyes to the pavement. "I…yeah. I've had a long night, Ryou."

The other boy smiled, and instead of demanding an explanation, which was pretty cool of him, he said, "Why don't we go get some coffee then, Malik? My tre-eat!"

The way he drew out 'treat' made it impossible for Malik to say no, though the calorie-rich drink didn't sound too appealing to his brain (but maybe it did to his stomach, just a bit).

"Sure, why don't we?"

.

The café smelled of vanilla lattes and a busy morning crowd.

Malik sipped at his steaming black coffee (no cream = virtually no calories) the richness of the brew putting off the notion of sleep in his mind.

"Yesterday, I blacked out and when I woke up…" Ryou looked around and leaned in toward Malik, lowering his voice. "I had a wallet in my hand. And I was in the middle of the mall. I didn't know what to do, Malik."

Malik's brow furrowed. "Do you know where you got the wallet?"

Ryou shook his head. "But I gave it to a security guard and he said he'd find the owner for me. I sure hope he did that, because I'd feel awful if that person never got it back."

"I mean it had to have had an I.D. card in it, Ryou," Malik said. Silently, he commended the kid for returning it. Malik would have kept it, but then again Malik kept a lot of things he "found" that didn't belong to him. But he did have to admit that he wondered where it came from, and most of all what was happening to Ryou that made him lose so many of his memories.

"I didn't look," he admitted, fiddling with the cardboard grip on his coffee cup. The two fell silent for a solid minute, both of them watching people pass by. It wasn't awkward, which Malik found refreshing.

Finally, though, Ryou spoke up. "Hey, Malik?"

"Yeah, Ryou?"

"I've been thinking about this a lot lately," the Brit said, a blush staining his pale cheeks. "You told your sister that we weren't 'officially' dating about a week ago at dinner. What does that mean?"

Malik smirked, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "It means we're not dating but Ishizu needs to think we are or are at least considering it so she doesn't give me a lecture on anonymous sex."

Ryou was visibly relieved, and Malik wasn't sure if he should be hurt or not. He didn't really like Ryou that much, but he didn't think it would be too horrible if Ryou liked him.

"Well that's good, because I like having you as a friend, Malik. And I just recently admitted to myself that I'm gay and I don't really think I'm ready to date anyone yet." Ryou was staring contemplatively at the edge of the round, yellow café table. "I have a lot I need to figure out about myself right now."

The last part made Malik frown. He wasn't disappointed by the thought of Ryou wanting some time, honestly. He was cute, but Malik didn't think they would last long in a relationship. Not once the goody Brit found out about his pastime, anyway. Plus, he was certainly right about needing to take some time for himself. The blackout thing was a huge issue in itself, and Malik really did feel sorry for him that he had to deal with it on a daily basis.

Malik smiled comfortingly, placing a hand on Ryou's forearm in a friendly, positive way. "That's fine, kid. I agree completely. Friends?"

Ryou smiled, the sun nearly reflecting off his pale face. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Malik gave his forearm a squeeze and then finished his coffee.

.

**A/N: So, I have no idea how I want to end this, or how long I'm planning on making it. If there's anything you guys want to see come out of this story, can you let me know in a review or a PM? Thanks for reading this and supporting me!**


	11. River of Blood

**A/N: Not a lot of people really said anything they'd like to see come out of this story or how you want it to end (like a happy ending or a happy-ish ending with really sadistic undertones, like the ending I gave Domino Institution for example if you've read that) so please if you have some extra time leave a comment or PM me about that because I'm really torn between which ending I want to give this little baby story of mine. *hearts***

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story. :)**

**.**

"You will _never _guess what happened to me yesterday," Malik blurted as he was landing on the rooftop. It was directly after school and he just _had_ to stop by and tell Lynx about his adventurous night.

"Like, oh my god, spill," Lynx said in a really bad, mock girly accent.

Malik ignored his teasing and began telling Lynx about the night before. "Last night I decided to go out for a while, right, and I—"

"Why didn't you come here?" Lynx said, interrupting Malik.

Malik cocked his head and smirked, feeling a little amused by the question. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey, did you miss me?"

Though Malik found his own joke pretty comical, Lynx waved his hand in dismissal and urged for the Egyptian to continue on with his story. Malik couldn't help but be curious about if his white-clad companion really had missed him, in a sense, or was at least a little offended by being ditched for a night. Maybe that's why he didn't really want to continue the conversation.

"Anyway," Malik carried on, despite his interest in the prior topic. "I was sitting in an alley and you'll never guess who came up to me and what they wanted."

The blonde-haired villain proceeded to tell Lynx about his run in with Sorcery Chance and Wolf Bite and how they'd basically asked him to temporarily join forces with them.

"What did you say?" Lynx asked, his strange serious side beginning to come out.

Malik scoffed. "I told them to suck a cock and swallow because I wasn't about to do anything with those shit heads."

Lynx sighed, burying his face in his hands. With a muffled voice, he said, "Why the hell would you pass up on such a golden opportunity to fuck with them? You do realize that's the point of what we're doing, right?"

"I mean, yeah, but still. What good would helping them do?"

"None. That's why you give them false information and watch as they further embarrass themselves in front of the police." Lynx looked up to face Malik. "Fafi, you've so much to learn."

Malik found himself feeling uncomfortable, a little embarrassed that he hadn't thought about that previously.

"Shit," he muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up under the unforgiving stare of his 'nemesis'.

Lynx began to laugh, shaking his head in what one might call pity. "Better hope they give you a second chance, or you're never living this blunder down, my dear Fafi."

Malik let out a deep breath and rolled his eyes, giving Lynx a one-up. The wind was blowing, leaving a slight chill in the afternoon air. Nevertheless, Lynx didn't shudder, instead bracing the cool air through his spandex costume like a pro. Malik wondered if Lynx was going to change out his outfit later in the season, when the cold became almost unbearable, especially at night. He found himself hoping not, because that costume looked really nice on him. The way it hugged his muscled shoulders was nearly mouthwatering, and the tightness of his butt was framed perfectly by the pure white material. And his abs—damn.

Malik realized his eyes were glued to the aforementioned six pack, and that he'd let the conversation go quiet while he was stuck in his thoughts.

"Um, yeah, I'll think of something to make it work," he said, awkwardly fumbling with the words that made up his tardy response.

The part of Lynx's mask that covered his eyebrows bunched up, and Malik assumed he was furrowing his brow, probably confused as to why in the world he'd responded in such a way.

The awkward situation grew worse when Malik realized what he'd been thinking. Why was he looking at Lynx that way? Lynx, of all people, who he knew for a fact was into girls, as he'd mentioned previously. Maybe he was bisexual, but still, Lynx had never mentioned liking men and he'd certainly never shown any interest in Malik.

But what did it matter and why was he feeling so embarrassed about it? Malik was gay—he liked the way men looked and fuck anyone who said he couldn't check them out. It's not like he was going to develop a crush on Lynx, because that would be nearly suicidal.

"Whatever," Lynx said. "Just try to make something work with them, okay? Then talk to me before you say anything to them so you don't blow it."

Malik had never realized how seductive his accent was as it played with the words and the deepness of his voice.

Shit.

.

By the time Malik got home, everyone had already eaten dinner.

"Hey," he greeted as he walked in the door. He kissed Ishizu on the forehead as she washed the dishes, setting his backpack on the counter simultaneously.

"Sorry I missed dinner," he continued, secretly not sorry at all. "I was working more on the project with Ryou. We were lucky because the teacher decided to give us a little extra time, so we just finished it an hour or so ago and he gave me a ride."

Ishizu nodded, drying her hands as well as the last dish. Odion and Mariku were probably upstairs in their rooms, because he didn't hear the T.V. and they were not in the kitchen.

"How was school?" she asked.

"It was okay," Malik said, deciding to dig in the fridge for some juice. He pulled out a jug of grape juice and poured himself a glass. He'd finally managed to go a day completely fasting, and he decided to reward himself with a small treat. However, now that he was home, his lack of sleep and sustenance was catching up to him. "It was school so how great could it be, you know?"

Ishizu chuckled, tugging on a blazer that had been lying on the counter. "I've got to take the night shift tonight at the museum, but the leftovers from dinner are in the fridge. Help yourself, okay?"

Malik gave a small smile and nodded, but he knew Ishizu saw a hint of deceit in it.

"I'm trusting you," she said, her big, brown eyes serving as her torture method for his conscience.

"I know, I will," he bluffed.

He felt bad, but not bad enough to be fat, so when no one was looking, a fourth of the leftovers became dinner for the garbage disposal.

.

The full moon shone through his window, and the night was quiet.

The fan in the corner of Malik's room buzzed evenly, his laptop giving off a faint glow that looked like a dim candle in comparison to the lunar show that lit practically his entire room. He sat in his desk chair, swiveling slowly in a small semicircle, deep in thought.

A noise at his window caught his attention. He furrowed his brows at a black figure that clung to the siding on his house with one hand and tapped quickly and relentlessly on the glass with the other. For some reason, he didn't even consider not opening the window. Instead, he allowed the stranger access to his bedroom, and immediately, he was shocked.

Lynx, dressed in his full costume, stepped inside, the mouthpiece of his mask giving away the faint outline of an ear-to-ear grin.

"What are you doing here?" Malik heard himself speak the words, but they were distant, like he was underwater.

Lynx said nothing, but a low chuckle spilled from his lips and filled the room like a river of blood, sucking Malik under and he couldn't breathe.

He was scared. Why was Lynx here and how did he know where Malik (Fast Fist?) lived?

Why was Lynx getting closer?

He felt hands on his chest, pushing him against the wall—It was cool, like the breeze coming in from his still-open window.

Lynx was in his face, and somehow his mask had been rolled up above his nose, exposing a pale mandible with puffy pink lips.

Lips.

Lips on his own, cold hands on his chest (cold like the wall and the breeze). His heart was racing as he let the other lay him down on the bed.

Teeth nibbled his lips and he tasted blood.

The river overcame him and he sat up in bed.

Alone.

Malik awoke from his dream covered in sweat, a metallic taste in the back of his throat. He wiped his nose and wasn't surprised at the streak of red on his palm. He tilted his head back and walked to the bathroom. Wadding some toilet paper to cover his nose, he thought about his dream.

The tan teen had his share of erotic dreams before (with the burden of hormones, who hasn't?) but something was weird about the one he'd had tonight.

Malik examined himself in the mirror, eyeing his sweaty, sleepy face and he decided that the dream was weird because it was about Lynx. Earlier, he'd had some pretty serious thoughts in terms of the villain's looks and maybe a little later on he'd noticed a few more things about how (dare he think it?) cute the other was. Like how he always tried to say the most inappropriate thing possible unless it came to villainy, then he let out that mature, serious Lynx that was almost sexy. At least lately he'd been showing that part of him, and Malik was really enjoying it.

It made their relationship feel less like a game and more like a…relationship.

A friendly one, Malik mentally corrected himself. A friendly relationship between two comrades.

The Egyptian teenager removed the tissue from his nose and ventured down the hall back to his room after deciding the bleeding in his nose had stopped enough. He sat on his bed, fiddling with the used tissue and thinking about how it had felt to dream-kiss his best friend.

He was about to lay back down when a noise at his window caught his attention.

He furrowed his brows at a black figure that clung to the siding on his house with one hand and tapped quickly and relentlessly on the glass with the other.

.

**A/N: Corny dream scene? Haters gonna hate yo. :P**


	12. Locks on the Window

**A/N: So I was reading the terms and conditions of fanfiction dot n because I got curious about if it said we had to do disclaimers and I didn't see anything at all. I also opened a bunch of random stories and only half of them had disclaimers on the first chapter. I guess it's a morality thing…?**

**Disclaimer: Whatever I'll do it anyway because this shit's not mine. :D**

**.**

_He was about to lay back down when a noise at his window caught his attention._

_He furrowed his brows at a black figure that clung to the siding on his house with one hand and tapped quickly and relentlessly on the glass with the other._

.

Malik's eyes widened in a fearful feeling that hit him worse than that night when he'd turned to see Odion, gun pulled and ready to take him in as Fast Fist.

The tapping continued as he slowly got up from his bed, and unlike in his dream, contemplated whether or not to open the window. The figure was unrecognizable in the pitch dark of the Domino night, which Malik found extremely iffy. However, if he let the stranger continue to knock, he would have the whole house awake at this ridiculous hour, at his room door with angry frowns on their tanned faces.

With that thought, he flipped up the locks on the window and pushed it open.

The dark figure (male, smelled of a rough night full of sweat and blood) fainted into his arms and he almost fell over trying to catch him. Pale hair that smelled of lavender shampoo tickled his jaw, an overheated forehead smearing sweat on his bare shoulder.

"Ryou?" Malik said in a hushed tone. "Is that you?"

A pained groan escaped the white-haired Brit and Malik struggled but eventually managed to lay the boy down on his bed.

He flipped on his light and gasped at the amount of blood escaping from his friend. "What the fuck happened to you?"

Ryou's rough, quieted voice spat out, "Help me."

Not hesitating, the Egyptian teen scoured his room for some painkillers and came up with a bottle of Ibuprofen. He went to the bathroom and gathered up a makeshift first aid kit from the cabinet and filled a small paper cup with water.

"Take this," he said to Ryou as he re-entered his room, closing and locking the door behind him. No one needed to know about this, especially not his family. He handed the pained boy (who had been moaning softly and gripped the sheets with pale, sweating hands) the medication and the cup of water and he took it, tilting his head up to avoid any spilling.

In just a once-over, Malik could tell that Ryou's nose was broken, as well as his lip busted and a forming bruise was evident just above the tear, his right arm was skinned deeply near his shoulder, as revealed by a rolled-up sleeve, and the opposite arm boasted a long cut on his forearm. Several other small scrapes and darkening bruises were present, but Malik decided that starting with treating his gushing arms was a good idea.

After bandaging and taping most of his wounds shut (he could use some stitches, but Malik was not about to take him anywhere because there must have been a reason he'd come to his house in the first place rather than a hospital) Malik plugged up his bleeding nose with two rolls of tissue, remembering briefly how he'd done the same to himself after that dream.

About Lynx.

Malik shuddered. To get his mind off his nemesis, he said, "There's really not anything I can do about your nose. I think it's broken, Ryou."

"Fuck."

The word shocked him. Malik had never once heard or could even imagine hearing Ryou cuss, but here he was. He seemed to be in a lot of pain, though his grip had loosened on the sheets and the tanned teen was willing to bet the ibuprofen had kicked in a bit. Malik's eyebrows wrinkled together in worry, but he wrote the language off as pain.

Malik put his hand over Ryou's and looked at him sympathetically. "What happened, Ryou?"

"I pissed off a lot of people tonight."

"Who?"

Ryou let out a bitter chuckle, one side of his mouth raised slightly in a smirk. "The wrong kind."

Malik gave a small smile, but he felt the sadness remaining in his eyes. How could someone be angry with Ryou? He didn't really feel right asking about it now, while the poor kid was in so much pain, so he let it go momentarily. The room fell silent and after a while Malik realized something that made him really curious.

How had Ryou managed to get up to his second story window?

.

The next night was another Lynx-free evening.

Malik really just wasn't ready to face the other after the dream. Not yet. He wondered too much about what that meant about his feelings for his comrade. Was he overtaken by a sudden wave of lust or was we genuinely attracted to this man he'd spent so much time with over the last year?

He wasn't sure he was ready to know the answer, and that's why he was standing in front of Sorcery Chance, a sole representative from the Trio of Cheer.

The two were conversing in a similar spot as before, just to avoid prying eyes. Malik had spent an hour flying over Domino searching for the little runt, and when he finally found him, he got his attention and now they were in an alley, discussing a future agreement.

"I'm not sorry about what I said before," Malik began with this for no other reason than to scrape up his pride like burnt cheese on a skillet. "But I've been thinking and I want to help you."

Sorcery Chance listened, remaining quiet. A sparkle in his eye gave Malik hope he'd be given another shot (and no he didn't want it just to impress Lynx, shut up) but he wasn't sure if that was just the cheerful nature of this kid or if he was seriously considering anything.

"I hear things," Malik continued, smirking. "And I'm not going to lie, I think these anon crime bozos are getting a little too cocky."

(It was true about Lynx at least, he thought with humor.)

"So it's more than one person," Sorcery Chance concluded.

Malik shifted positions, realizing his blunder. Lynx was not going to be happy about that. He remembered the white-clad villain's words clearly: _"Talk to me before you say anything to them so you don't blow it."_

He shrugged, realizing denying his mistake would only make himself look suspicious. "I mean, maybe, it took me forever to find you, so I actually have somewhere to be right now. Uh, can we meet here tomorrow at around ten P.M.?"

Malik mentally crossed his fingers, hoping the hero wouldn't notice that slight waver in his voice that could easily give him away. He was learning more and more about the team's leader, so if he got anything out of this, it was that knowledge. Though he appeared to be nothing more than a small child, Sorcery Chance's threat level was probably the highest out of his team of cheerleaders.

"Yes, that's great," the boy replied with a smile, the small line of cloth that went over his nose wrinkling a bit from his change in expression.

Malik felt relief, but the break faded quickly after the hero had left him alone in the abandoned space. He chose to remain hidden for a moment and pull out his phone. He tapped Ryou's name on the screen and let it ring until voicemail before he hung up.

Since the night before, Ryou had been out of contact with him. He'd left before sunrise the night he arrived, once the medicine had fully kicked in and his pain level was manageable. He had skipped school, which wasn't surprising, but what was a bit of a shock to Malik was his lack of communication. As he mounted his bike in the school's parking lot, he'd dialed his friend, intending on asking if he needed anything dropped off at his house. No answer prompted him to call again, and the voicemail was his only response. Since then, he'd called three more times, and he was genuinely worried about Ryou.

Malik would have checked on him at home, but he had no idea where the other lived. It was surprising how much he didn't know about his British companion, such as what enemies he had to have gotten such a beating, or even if he had it coming or not.

Mind wandering, Malik found his way home, and he allowed himself a glass of juice to celebrate another fasting day.

**.**

**A/N: "Fasting" meaning not eating. I don't know if that's obvious and I just said something really stupid but yeah.**

**Next chapter is gonna be a biggie! :D**


	13. Malik

**A/N: Thanks for all your support, guys. It really means a lot to me. :)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned YGO, thiefshipping would be canon and it would be teen rated. Less card games, more gay people.**

**.**

Malik awoke early in the morning.

It was not the birds singing in the yard or the bright morning sun kissing his eyelids that urged him to get out of bed, but a deep embedded pain in the pit of his stomach, like it was trying to ingest itself. He smiled, remembering the feeling from so long ago, before his family decided to interfere with his eating.

The feeling would get better once he was out of bed, he knew from experience. It was the nights that brought it out, when he was alone in bed, sweating between his sheets because of the stabbing pain of progress. He stood up and stretched, knowing that two days with nothing but juice was probably going to get to him, especially since it was Saturday and he had decided during the sleepless night before that he would go find Lynx and do the appropriate thing:

Act like nothing had happened. No dream, no feelings, no problems.

He headed downstairs and Odion was reading the newspaper at the bar, as always, with a mug of black coffee steaming on the counter in front of him.

"Morning," Malik greeted. He'd already decided that he'd venture as far as to have a piece of toast for breakfast, no spread, to prepare for the day ahead of him. He had earned it, and the bread was only 40 calories per slice. He figured as long as he ate no more than 300 calories a day, he could keep losing weight and still give off the impression that he was eating.

"Morning, Malik." And that was all Odion had to say at such an early hour.

While his toast toasted, he pulled down a glass that held eight fluid ounces (he'd memorized the measurements of every dish in the entire house to ensure proper serving sizes) and filled it halfway with orange juice (112 calories in eight fluid ounces of orange juice divided in to two meant 56 calories).

Once his toast was done, he consumed all 96 calories of his breakfast and got dressed for a day of villainy.

.

"Did you get ahold of Hobbit Boy?"

Malik smirked at how Lynx hadn't even given him a chance to sit down on the rooftop before he showed his impatience in knowing what happened.

"Did you seduce him and start what will be a painful, forbidden romance that ends in one or both of you dying?"

Malik's grin turned to a face of disgust. "He's, like, nine."

Lynx shook his head. "He's the same age as you, Fafi."

There was no way that guy was 17. "Okay, whatever. I'm not even going to ask how you know that, but yes. I did talk to him and I'm going to meet up with him tonight to talk more."

"What was said?" Lynx prompted, an undertone in his voice that suggested he knew Malik had messed up somewhere.

And he had.

"I just said I thought that the guys behind it were getting too cocky and that something needed to be done."

"So you told him it was a group of people rather than one person. Good job, Fafs," Lynx said, his arrogant tone leaning toward amused.

Malik played it off. "Whatever. But that's all I said. I told him I had somewhere to be and left since you said to talk to you first."

Lynx chuckled deeply. With a seductive tone, "And you _always_ do what I say."

The Egyptian teen found himself shifting uncomfortably. Lynx's words (or rather, the erotic meaning behind them) brought back memories of his dream, how Lynx's lips had felt on his own as their bodies became much too close for friends. He'd been doing so well at keeping his thoughts at bay, too.

"I kind of do," Malik heard himself say, and immediately regretted it. It was true, but Lynx didn't have to hear him admit it.

"That's because I don't say stupid things to the enemy," Lynx quipped, only half-joking. It _was_ true. Nearly everything Lynx said was planned in advance, and either had a double-meaning or was worded to put specific thoughts in the addressee's mind. Malik had learned that at the beginning, and that's how he got past the unique charm of the cat-based individual. He knew that most of his jokes were a front, and that that serious, sexy man hid behind his white mask.

"Hah-_hah_." Malik rolled his eyes.

A short silence gripped on to the duo, Until Lynx spoke up.

"So what's up with your diet?"

A secret part of him got excited at the question. Why would his companion ask other than because he cared? If Lynx cared about him, then maybe he'd be open to try having a relationship with him outside of 'Lynx' and 'Fast Fist'. (Wait, since when did Malik want that?)

"Why do you ask?"

Lynx shrugged his shoulders casually. "You don't talk about it much anymore. I thought maybe your family made you start eating again or something. You're starting to look less like an archaeological dig and more like a person."

Fat. He was starting to look fat.

Malik shook his head. He wouldn't look fat for long, and he'd make sure of it. "No, they made me for a while, but I'm taking control of myself again."

"Why do you _want_ to look like a contestant on America's Next Top Model?"

"Why do you care what I look like?"

"I don't. I care if you can fly for more than ten seconds without getting a face full of pavement."

"I can take care of myself," Malik snapped, though that part of him that wanted Lynx to care—the part that wanted his friend to be afraid for him and wonder if he'd be okay—was nearly satisfied.

"Apparently fucking not if your family got involved," Lynx growled.

Okay, mentioning his family in that way was a little harsh. "You don't know shit about them, or me."

"I know you have a problem and they finally grew the brains and the balls to do something about it."

The punch was thrown before he even realized it. Malik's two smallest knuckles hit under Lynx's eye, the biggest two landing on the side of his nose with a fair amount of force. Malik's anger at having his family brought into the situation was let out in that movement, and for a moment he was satisfied.

"SHIT," Lynx literally screamed, hands flying to his face.

Malik was shocked at the reaction he received from the boy who normally tried so hard to establish a certain appearance. He examined Lynx's face through the other villain's white-gloved hands and noticed that his nose was pointed at an angle, and a blood stain was quickly growing larger on his mask under his nose.

"I didn't hear a crack," Malik said. "I didn't break your nose."

He knew what it felt like to break someone's nose—the bone snapped when it was hit and sometimes you could feel your fist slide a little too far. He had felt the latter, now that he thought about it, but not the former.

"Your nose was already broken," he concluded.

Lynx said nothing, but he reached up into his mask without removing it or even showing any skin and pulled out two small wads of bloody tissue, presumably that he'd had in his nose to prevent bleeding, and tossed them to the side.

"What happened?" Malik asked, wanting to come closer to his friend, but resisting the urges. Lynx would probably run off if Malik tried to do anything.

"That's none of your business," Lynx spat, his voice sounding ridiculously nasally. He was pinching his still-crooked nose, attempting to stop the bleeding.

Malik could tell by his body language that he was in a lot of pain, but Lynx's attitude made little room for sympathy. "But my dieting and family are your business? My sister's work is your business? My love life?"

"Get me some tissue," Lynx said, ignoring Malik's anger.

"What happened to your nose?"'

There was a short, fuming silence where all the world's hatred and fury emanated from Lynx's pained body.

"I got in a fight with a lot of people and they fucked me up, okay?" Lynx said the words with poison. "I tried to mug a guy and he had some friends nearby. They got pissed. I fought them all but they kept coming at me like rabid fucking dogs until I scaled a wall and got away. Now will you get me something to stop my damn nose from bleeding, Malik?"

The world stopped.

Malik's name echoed in his thoughts, over and over. The other teen knew his real name. He thought about everything else Lynx knew about him, stuff he hadn't told him. He thought about Lynx's British accent and how he always seemed to be waiting on the rooftop at the right times. He thought about the broken nose and he thought about two nights ago when Ryou showed up, clinging to the siding on his house beside his second-story window in the middle of the night.

One word escaped Malik's mouth in the moment of shock he was experiencing:

"Ryou?"

**.**

**A/N: Omg like totes review please so I know you guys don't hate this stuff. :3**

**Or so I know you do. Which I hope you don't. D:**

**Let me know!**


	14. First Date

**A/N: So I wonder how many people expected that plot twist? No one really said much about it. **

**IMPORTANT: Any time where Ryou was acting out of character (as in not being ridic cute and sweet omg) is when it was actually Bakura, as I'm sure some of you figured. Such as the "Ryou" scene after Malik's dream. **

**There's still a little more to reveal though so don't go anywhere please. :P**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

**.**

Monday morning came bearing gifts of dread.

Assuming Ryou showed up to school, it was going to be a very awkward encounter. No longer could Malik see the white-haired kid as himself, instead as the man he'd spent so much time around. The friend he'd known for so long and spent so many nights with.

Lynx—who'd run away Saturday night, without saying anything once Malik had his realization.

He decided to leave the house early so he could skip breakfast (a forming habit) and got to school before anyone else. Pushing back the urge to just pass by the school and go rob a bunch of people, Malik parked his bike and removed his helmet. He stood and brushed off his clothes.

Due to the changing weather, he was wearing a tight-fitting, stone gray long sleeve shirt and black skinny jeans that folded nicely to cover a large portion of his purple hi-top converse. Just because he was feeling bad didn't mean he needed to look bad. Plus, seeing Ryou today felt oddly like his first impression. Like the first time he was meeting the _real_ Ryou.

As Malik looked up from his clothes, satisfied with the neatness, he met eyes with the aforementioned Brit, who was pulling into the parking lot. He drove up to Malik at a curiously fast pace and cracked his window.

"Get in."

Malik silently obeyed, climbing in Ryou's small, well-kept car.

As his friend was finding a shaded place to park, Malik stared at his own lap, unable to stop his smile. He'd expected to feel nervous, but his true emotion surprised him.

"So how's the nose?" He asked, amusement evident in his tone.

"Fuck you."

Malik could hear the smirk in his voice.

"It feels like two giants tried to have sex with me through my nostrils."

The Egyptian teen laughed, looking over at his friend. Maybe this whole no costume thing wasn't too horrible, and he had to admit that being able to see the emotion on his fellow villain's face was really nice. And even with the bruised and slightly swollen nose, Ryou was still cute.

"Ryou, why didn't you ever tell me about this?" He'd used Malik's name that night, which meant he knew the whole time, or at least part of it.

He had long since parked the car under a tree at the edge of the lot. "_Ryou_? Fafi, are you really that stupid?"

"Well, what am I…?"

"When I'm not in costume, I go by Bakura."

Malik let that information sink in. "Okay. _Bakura_, why didn't you ever tell me about this?"

"Ryou did. Kind of. Bloody hell, he basically handed you everything you needed to figure this out," Bakura said, unbuckled and turned fully toward Malik, his right leg folded and pulled to his chest in the seat. "He told you about the blackouts, which should have been a major clue. Remember when he woke up from that last one he told you about with the wallet? Guess who stole that?"

"So," Malik spoke the word slowly, staring at the steering wheel. "Ryou has a split personality disorder and I unknowingly became friends with both personalities. You go around with some freakin' paradox bullshit and create Lynx so you can be like a person within a person within a person and be my partner in crime and you and I had sex in a back alley. That's what I'm getting out of this."

"Atta boy, right on the nose," Bakura said, winking. He grinned with Ryou's face and now that Malik knew that it wasn't him, he looked like a completely different person.

Continuing on with his looks, Malik remembered that very smile, the night in the back alley when they'd ended up having sex. Bakura was the one he'd slept with, not Ryou, and he was kind of relieved by that realization. He'd been having those feelings for his partner in crime, and maybe it wasn't such a bad thing now that he knew the other (Lynx or Bakura?) was at least _sexually_ attracted to him. (I mean who wasn't? Malik took great pride in his looks, and he wasn't afraid to brag or show off.)

Another part of him was a little creeped out, however.

"Why did you have sex with me?" Malik asked, and those nerves he'd expected? Yeah. They felt like butterflies, like that tickling feeling you get when your crush smiles at you.

Bakura shrugged. "Because I can."

Malik rolled his eyes, thinking of the millions of times he'd done it before when 'Lynx' couldn't see. "Seriously, why? Aside from the fact that I'm irresistible, of course."

Bakura gave a small half-smirk and glanced down at Malik's frame, letting his eyes linger for a moment as he said, "Don't get too cocky. There are more reasons. For one, Ryou wanted it. And he needed it, but I knew he wasn't going to make a move."

Bakura paused, his half-smirk expanding into a full-on grin. Malik had grown pretty uncomfortable under the eyes (the color was off—they were almost red, like wilting roses in a lonely vase) of his partner. He felt his face heat up, and the blush spread all over. The blood swam as his heart rate increased, but he felt his nerves being burnt up by the heat scattering through his body. Bakura was definitely into him.

"So _I_ did."

What was it about this guy that was getting him so turned on, though? Malik tried to keep himself from showing how worked up Bakura had gotten him from a simple look and a seductive tone, but he knew his body language had betrayed him.

"You said there were 'more' reasons, suggesting my initial reason was also right. You think I'm hot." Malik turned the arsenal on Bakura, even though he wasn't fully sure he'd be able to get the other as nervous as he'd let himself get. He was pretty sure he was developing a major crush on Bakura, especially now that the deep, sexy voice and wild personality had a strong, muscled body and a very handsome face to accompany it.

Bakura chuckled (flashing sharp teeth that he'd never noticed on Ryou before), shifting in his seat. He leaned on to the center console, and Malik felt his heart flutter. Was Bakura planning on kissing him?

He decided he'd make it available if the other decided to, squaring his shoulders to Bakura and inching as close as he could without it being awkward.

"You're not bad, not at all, but it's a shame what you're doing to that exotic body of yours," he said, his accent creeping up on the words and softening the minor insult about his weight.

"I'm making myself better, shut up," Malik protested, forgetting about kissing the fool and sitting up straight, arms now crossed indignantly. If he saw himself from an outsider's perspective, he may have realized how childish he looked, his pose paired with his rebuttal.

Bakura shook his head, and Malik examined his face for any indication of emotion. He found nothing, because Bakura had looked down, probably to hide whatever he really was feeling.

"You always bring it up, Bakura. It's almost like you care," Malik said, letting his tone slip a bit of a tease, though they both knew he was at least half-serious.

Bakura raised a hand and moved it like he was swatting away an incessant fly. "Whatever, Malik. You and Ryou have school soon. Don't you have shit to do, like last second homework or something?"

Malik sighed. He'd noticed a few more cars pulling into the parking lot as they were talking, but he was hoping time would slow until he had all his questions answered. "Why don't we skip first period?"

Bakura fake-gasped and plastered on an overly-scared expression. "That's what Ryou would say. I say skip the whole damn day."

Malik glanced at the students walking up to the front entrance of the school, then back at Bakura. "You asking me out, kid?"

"Are you going to say yes?" Bakura's voice was deep. His eyes went low again, and Malik felt himself squirm.

"Yeah, I think I will."

.

"So, Ryou doesn't know about you."

Bakura shook his head, taking a bite of bacon. The two were in a bustling breakfast joint, because the white-haired teen had insisted that that should be their first stop. _"Ryou never eats fucking breakfast."_

Malik had a glass of apple juice and one scrambled egg getting cold on the plate in front of him, and Bakura had ordered a heaping plate of pancakes with a side of bacon and two fried eggs.

"He knows he has a problem, and he has his suspicions, but he doesn't know I exist," Bakura replied between bites, but never talking with his mouth full—something Malik appreciated greatly. "I, however, know everything he does, when he does it, and can take over at any time. My life is basically an RPG, half movie, half game play."

Malik chuckled, though the joke was a bit morbid. Poor Ryou had no idea. He felt sorry for the sweet kid, but only halfway, because a messed up side of him was having a good time with Bakura. 'Lynx' had given him so many great days and nights as well. It was a little sad to think Ryou was suffering for it, but Malik didn't think he'd ever give those times up.

Malik rested his chin in his cupped hand, leaning on the table. "How did you know I was the person behind the mask?"

Bakura nodded at Malik's untouched breakfast. "Take a bite and I'll answer that."

"Are you serious?"

Bakura shrugged. "Is your question serious?"

Malik sighed and got a small piece of egg on his clean fork. He cringed at the sound of metal scraping on the glass saucer.

"A bigger bite," Bakura prompted.

Hesitantly, with a bit of fear nestling in his tummy, he stuck the fork through three pieces of egg and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly to show his distaste before swallowing.

"Open."

Malik eyed Bakura, who had opened his mouth to show the Egyptian what he wanted. His tongue stuck out to a point, and the corners of his mouth were raised in amusement.

Malik look around to make sure no one was looking before he mimicked the action, shaking his head slightly to make it look even weirder. The two shared a laugh, and Malik felt all his problems start to fly away, one by one, disappearing into the clouds like forgotten balloons.

"The day I stole your shoes, because not many guys wear purple Converse, plus things you said to Ryou and times when you ran into him. The general build of your body, too. That spandex doesn't hide much," Bakura said, smirking. Malik snorted at his suggestive tone.

"That's the point," He said, winking charmingly. "I guess that all makes sense. But you had it easier, because not every-fuckin'-one has two personalities. Otherwise your accent would have been killer for your cover up."

"Yeah, well—" Bakura was interrupted by the waitress dropping off the check, leaving it face down in between the couple.

They exchanged glances, the conversation forgotten, before Bakura took the slip of paper and reached into his pocket. He handed the stout server a credit card with the check folded around it, and she took it to the register for him.

Malik smiled, feeling a little guilty about not eating his entire meal. So guilty that he picked up the juice and downed half of it. Once he swallowed, he met eyes with Bakura and said, "That was really sweet."

Bakura raised an eyebrow and let out a low chuckle. "That was Ryou's card."

**.**

**A/N: **

**Fun fact: Converse are my favorite shoes and everyone should wear them (I have a purple pair just like Malik!). I love Converse so much my boyfriend decided the best ever present for me was to design some on the Converse Site especially for me and I'm gonna marry him. (For reasons other than the shoes but yeah, lol.)**

**But on a note that's actually related, isn't Bakura the sweetest asshole ever? Also more on their date next chapter. The word count was getting too high and I like to keep it uniform/am a little OCD about certain things, pfffft. **

**And no I didn't forget about the heroes. I'll explain next chapter, I'm so sorry. **


	15. Best Friend

**A/N: I started my junior year guys! I'm a home school student so this won't affect updates much, but I still do have to do some work, haha. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned YGO there'd be a live action movie with my cast list from a few chapters ago. And the movie would be about Thief Bakura's past and there would definitely be a past-life Malik in there somewhere. :P**

**.**

Aside from the occasional quarrel, the date was coming along very well.

The two had long since left the breakfast cafe (Bakura had talked Malik into eating three more bites and finishing his juice), and were now at a local park, which was nearly abandoned due to it being school hours. They sat on the two-person swing set, Malik slowly swaying back and forth with little effort while Bakura kicked up loose dirt.

"What did you do about Sorcery Chance?" Bakura asked, after a short, calming silence that was far from uncomfortable. The wind was cold, but the sun heated the pair pleasantly, and the mixture of the two was Malik's description of perfect weather. The solace of the empty park made the Egyptian feel at home, alone with Bakura with no one to bother him, like so many nights spent on the rooftop.

"Oh, yeah. I was supposed to see him Saturday at eleven, wasn't I?" Malik put a finger to his mouth and stared at the swing set on the other side of the lot with a blank expression. He held his pose for a moment before looking at Bakura with a playing smile plastered on his warm-toned features. "Just kidding. We never talked about what I should say to him so I left a note where we met last time and told him something came up."

Bakura snorted and shook his head, clearly amused. His half-smile held something else though—and if Malik was hopeful, he'd call it fondness. He examined the features of the Brit carefully, noting differences between how he held himself, how he smiled, compared to the body's natural host. Bakura made Ryou's normally open face look more angled and older. He made Ryou's cherub lips look paler, his rounded cheeks more slender. Bakura carried himself with much more pride than Ryou could ever muster, Malik was sure.

"If you don't stop staring, I might think you're desperate," Bakura cautioned, a joke hidden in the upturned corners of his blood-stained eyes.

"Oh, but sex behind a stinking dumpster is perfectly acceptable," Malik scoffed, stretching his long legs in front of him before standing up. He turned to Bakura and held out a hand for the other to take.

"That was for Ryou, not me. Though I must admit it was enjoyable for both of us," Bakura said, giving Malik a slow once-over as he took his hand and pulled himself out of the canyon of a swing.

Malik led Bakura over to a picnic table, his warm hand cradling Bakura's chilly fingers. He sat down on the wooden plank, facing away from the table and Bakura followed suit.

"Why did we move?" Bakura wondered, shifting to face Malik on the worn seat. He crossed his slender legs and Malik noticed how his muscles moved under his tight blue jeans.

"Because I wanted an excuse to hold your hand," Malik admitted, tightening his fingers a little more around Bakura's just to accentuate his statement.

Bakura snorted and scooted a little closer, lifting their hands onto his thigh. Malik felt his face get red as their upper arms and legs met. He found himself loving how warm Bakura's body felt, though his hands were still icy to the touch. When he was growing up, Ishizu would always say, _"Cold hands, warm heart"_ and Malik wondered if it was true.

(With what he knew of his companion, it probably wasn't.)

"Bakura?"

"Mhmm?"

As he spoke, Malik let his head fall slowly to the side, gently landing on Bakura's muscled shoulder. "Are you a real person?"

"That's a stupid question," he almost snapped, though Malik could feel the roiling in his torso of a low chuckle. "I'm just as real as you, but God was afraid of me so he gave me limits."

Malik let a sharp breath escape his nose. "You don't seem like the type to believe in any gods."

"I don't, but it's ignorant to refuse the possibility. Plus that sounds badass and you know it," Bakura said, laughter following suit.

Malik joined him and he thought of how unreal everything felt. How his crush had turned so quickly into a first date, and the date had led to semi-cuddling in public. He wondered what else it would lead to, but jumped when he realized something terrifying.

"What time is it?" Malik said, letting go of Bakura's hand and searching his pockets wildly for his phone.

"It's 3:06 P.M.," Bakura's voice sounded, and Malik's horrors were realized.

"I have to be home, like, now," he said, standing up. "_Fuck_ me."

"Is that an invitation?" Bakura asked, twirling his car keys on the tip of his pointer finger as he followed behind Malik.

Even in his panic, Malik smirked, though he pretended not to and said, "We have to go."

.

The school was a graveyard after hours, even though it had just ended.

Bakura pulled into the parking space next to Malik's abandoned bike and shifted into park.

As Malik was gathering up his unused school bag and a few books, Bakura said, "So…do you kiss on the first date?"

He grinned and slid the shoulder strap of his bag on. "I don't know. Will there be a second?"

Bakura nodded once, flashing sharp, white teeth. "If that's what it takes to get you to fucking kiss me, sure."

Malik bit his bottom lip and leaned close to Bakura's lips…and quickly shifted positions just before they kissed and brushed his smooth lips against the almost painful roughness of the dark gray stubble on Bakura's cheek.

"Bitch," Bakura muttered as Malik was pulling away, and the Egyptian teen made note of the look in those bloodied eyes; a mix of entrapped lust and entertained wonder.

.

Later, Malik found himself alone in his room.

He was grounded.

Mariku had ratted on him about skipping school, so Odion (Ishizu was at work at the time, where she remained at almost one in the morning) had grounded him once more. He was starting to wonder why they bothered, because Malik's eighteenth birthday was just around the corner, and he would be able to skip school, have sex and starve himself if he so pleased. Not that he partook in the first two that often, but it was reassuring to know that he could if he wanted to.

He could have another day like that one had been.

It was very different being around Malik's partner in crime without the 'in crime' part. He felt a very peculiar bond with Bakura, probably because he'd known him so long, and yes, his romantic feelings had just recently bloomed, but the strong friendship they had maintained was far from new.

Today he realized something. Though they were odd as a couple, he and Bakura had been through a lot. Running from the heroes (and not to mention the police), robbing high-security facilities and mugging random people off the streets was only half of it, and the other half was talking on the rooftop, making jokes together and plotting. He knew that Bakura had his back, even if he pretended not to, and he would never leave behind his partner in crime.

As he lay in bed, he realized that Bakura was his best friend.

**.**

**A/N: Omg fluff**


	16. The Warehouse

**A/N: Gosh sleeping until noon and then doing maximum two hours of school work a day before fucking around all afternoon with my boyfriend really makes writing hard.**

**That is my only excuse as to why this update is so late. xD**

**Disclaimer: Penis. (If you even smiled you're just as immature as me so don't give me those judgmental thoughts.)**

**.**

Later that week, Malik decided to spend his grounding as he did every grounding: _not_ at home.

"Well, it's nice of you to show your masked face, Fafi."

Malik's feet dragged lightly on the concrete roof before he stabilized himself, and he hoped Bakura (or Lynx, since both boys were in costume for the first time since their date) didn't notice. The Egyptian was still cutting out on his diet, and he could really feel a difference in how his powers were working. Against his better judgment, though, he let his pride have its way and he still went out as Fast Fist.

"Like you haven't seen me in school," Malik combatted, his tone zesty but joking.

The two had constantly been passing notes in the classes he and Ryou shared, which was a relief because then he didn't have to face Ryou as much. Malik had made it a drastic point to avoid the more innocent Brit. Conversations in the hallway were severely limited to small talk and awkward smiles, because he wasn't sure just what to say. He and Bakura hadn't discussed how Malik should act around Ryou, so he figured just acting like nothing ever happened was the best route. Bakura seemed perfectly content with Ryou in the dark, and if he was comfortable then Malik figured he should keep his nose out of it.

"So you're ungrounded, then?" Bakura questioned, greeting Malik by wrapping an arm around his waist when he sat down on the ledge. His thumb rubbed Malik's protruding hip bone with a bit of unspoken sorrow, and Malik pretended not to notice (though he was secretly a bit proud of his bones, and he was happy Bakura had noticed).

"I'm not ungrounded yet," Malik said, shoving aside the elephant in the room. "I think Odion wants to keep me grounded until my birthday."

"And when is your birthday?" Bakura's tone was a little surprised.

"Next week."

"Eighteenth?"

Malik nodded. "Yep."

"Sweet freedom," Bakura said, reaching out dramatically with his unoccupied arm.

"You're telling me. I'm so tired of them grounding me, you know? They act like I'm twelve."

"They act like you're twelve because you do," Bakura said, his tone even and cool.

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Do _not_."

"Exactly."

Malik rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"And starving yourself is a bit childish, too," Bakura chided. "Acting like anyone but you wants that kind of figure. Not even society, who is blamed for eating disorders, wants skin and bone."

"What are you going to do, shove food down my throat like my siblings?" Malik spat venom.

Bakura was silent for a long moment, breathing deeply. He ran his hand up and down Malik's side, from his ribcage to his hip bone. "I'm not going to do anything, Malik, but wait. When you're in a hospital, withering further away because you wanted to be a skeleton, maybe you'll learn."

Malik let the words sink in, before looking up at the blank mask of Lynx. "Learn what?"

"There's a lot more to life than being the skinniest girl in high school."

.

That same night, Fast Fist found himself face to face with Sorcery Chance.

"Your lackies too scared to show up?" Malik commented, smirking arrogantly.

Sorcery Chance shrugged, the joke going right over his head (how could it not, with him being no more than 5 feet tall?). "They wanted to patrol the town just to make sure you weren't a distraction so your evil friends could do whatever they want."

At least he was honest.

"Fair enough. Now let's talk about this deal," Malik said, not really wanting to be around his mortal enemy all day.

"You help us solve this mystery criminal disaster and we'll let you off the hook for three months, as long as you don't kill or injure anyone, on purpose or otherwise."

"And Lynx. Is he included in this?" Malik felt like he should aim to get as much as he could out of this loser, and Bakura had asked him to talk about expanding the immunity onto him. They'd discussed what Malik should say and how he should say it earlier that night, just over half an hour ago.

"Okay. In that case, I can't help you," Malik said, his lips set in a line and his tone dully sullen.

Sorcery Chance frowned and said, "Well that stinks. But it's okay, we can probably find someone else."

As he was turning away, Malik panicked and said, "Wait!"

"I'll help you, okay?"

When Sorcery Chance turned once again to face Malik, he had a smile on his face. "So it's a deal?" he asked a bit too enthusiastically.

Malik nodded. "When does my three months start?"

"When you give me your first piece of information." Sorcery chance confirmed, much to Malik's pleasure.

"Alright, so today," he said, getting excited at the idea of tricking the loser heroes.

"Wait. If we find out anything you tell me is wrong or corrupted in any way," Sorcery Chance interrupted, a new dangerously low tone to his voice now. "We'll find you and arrest you. Got it?"

Malik nodded, pushing back an evil smirk. "Perfect. Now, if you'd like to find the people responsible for this, you'll want to go to the warehouse by the docks at midnight on Friday. The one with the gray roof and the brown double doors. There are going to be a lot of people there you've been looking for, so you'd be smart to bring a team of police."

"And you're sure this information is correct?" Sorcery chance prodded, his eyes narrowed.

Malik cocked his head to the side, frowning to show how "hurt" he was by the proposition that he was lying. "Of course it is."

Sorcery Chance nodded, then glanced behind him. "Thanks, Fast Fist. Enjoy your three months, okay? But once your time's up, it's on!"

Malik simply shrugged. "Just be careful, kid. There are some dangerous people out there."

And with that, he took off, thinking of how he and Bakura were just the dangerous people he should be looking out for.

.

The bell for first period rang, saving Malik from a very awkward conversation.

Ryou waved at him from down the hall, just as the clock turned time for school to start. Malik waved back and then ducked into their shared first period class, taking a seat in the very back. A familiar tuff of white hair took the seat in front of him, and that's how Malik knew it was Bakura, not Ryou, who had entered the class room. Bakura would always sit in front of him, to make note-passing easier, and Ryou would in the desk in the next row to his left, beside him.

As the teacher stood to begin the lecture, the first wad of paper landed on the Egyptian's desk.

He plucked it up and slid it into the sleeve of his sweater, then unfolded it in his lap when the teacher was facing the white board.

_What happened with SC?_

Bakura's handwriting was a scribbled, messy cursive, and Malik found trouble reading it sometimes.

Malik put the piece of paper over his binder so it would look like notes and wrote, _I told him about the warehouse and he bit. We're good. :)_

He thought about how the smiley was certainly a good addition to his neat, girly scrawl as he folded it carefully and slid it over Bakura's shoulder.

When he got the note back, it read, _Great. You, me tonight. Midnight premiere of the new vampire movie?_

_Depends, are we watching it or making out?_

There had yet to be a second date, and Malik had been sure to withhold kissing until Bakura asked for one, hoping the incentive, though admittedly a bit desperate, would do the trick.

_A little of both, if you want, _he received in reply to his question.

The tanned teen wrote, _deal_, and passed the other back the note, a new excitement embedded in his stomach for the coming night.

**.**

**A/N: Lemme know if you enjoyed this!**


	17. Free Beer

**A/N: I was sooooo excited to write out this date because thiefshipping. **

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to this girl right here. **

**.**

That very Thursday night, just after school, turned out to be the coldest yet of the changing seasons.

Malik's phone sang a chorus of buzzes as the time turned to 11:30 P.M. He didn't much need the reminding about his second date with 'Lynx', but he figured he'd be better safe than sorry, because he didn't even want to think about how Bakura would react to being stood up.

Malik tugged the hems of his black skinny jeans over the top of his gray Vans—his second favorite pair of shoes. He had a thick, dark gray trench coat buttoned over a tight, white t-shirt. He looked a bit drab, but he was sure no one in the movie theater would mind his current outfit selection over the pounds of ridiculously flashy articles of clothing that resided in his closet, but were more suited for warmer weather and a night not spent sneaking out.

In accordance to the aforementioned action, he found himself holding on to the siding of his house, sliding a butter knife in between the window and the sill to keep it from locking him out. He climbed down the siding until he was low enough to the ground to jump—something he'd figured out he could do from the night Bakura had showed up, beaten and broken.

Malik thought back to that night and silently wondered how Bakura's nose was doing as he walked toward the bright lights of downtown Domino.

.

The blonde Egyptian spotted Bakura quickly, after a brief walk to the theater.

He was leaning coolly against a wall, just behind the line to buy tickets. He was bundled similarly to Malik, though Bakura's black coat was much longer, reaching to his upper calves. Its length did nothing but accentuate how it was cinched around his waist appealingly, and a light blue shirt stood out against his chest, bringing out his very obvious muscles even more.

Malik smiled, giving his companion a swift but very noticeable once-over.

"Shall we?" Bakura said, holding up two tickets between his pointer and middle fingers.

Malik nodded and grabbed on to his date's arm, allowing the other to lead him to the front door of the theater.

They entered and the heated building welcomed the tanned teenager and his underweight frame like a cup of coffee before school. Bakura handed over their tickets to the employee waiting at the door, and the older, plumper man eyed them with bushy brows furrowed closely together.

The man pushed up his glasses and narrowed his eyes at the pieces of paper for a long moment.

"Is there a problem?" Bakura prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, but these tickets are fake," he replied, pointedly tossing them in a garbage can next to the door.

Malik looked from his white-haired date to the employee, expecting any moment for Bakura to grab the older gentleman by his collar and threaten him until he let the couple in.

But then he remembered that they weren't in costume and that normal people didn't do that, and he led himself and Bakura back into the bitter cold before anything bad could happen.

"Why did you try to use fake tickets? I would have paid if you'd asked," Malik said, once they were outside the theater and walking down the sidewalk toward some unknown destination.

"They were sold out," Bakura admitted. "And I didn't want to cancel the date for such a lame reason."

Malik snorted. "Why cancel? There's plenty to do in this town, Bakura."

"Yeah, right," replied the Brit sarcastically, tossing his arm around Malik's shoulder and pulling him close as they walked.

Malik hoped his shivering wasn't noticeable, but he was grateful for the warmth his date's body offered. "I'm serious. We're crafty, we'll find something."

"You wouldn't shiver so much if you had more fat to insulate you," Bakura cut in, and Malik rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of fat," he said, attempting to change the subject. "Why don't we just go get dinner?"

"The anorexic boy, asking for food. What a rare occurrence," Bakura retorted, but that didn't stop him from crossing the street and entering the closest restaurant, which happened to be a very busy sports bar.

"I didn't think you'd complain," Malik said, walking through the door Bakura had opened for him and entering a thriving area of night life. As he led the way to the only empty table in the joint, Malik thought about how his powers that last time he'd gone out with 'Lynx' had been very difficult to use, and simple things took much too much effort. He'd decided that he would have to start consuming just a bit more; just enough to keep his powers in use. And he would obviously be able to work it all off and then some by going out with Bakura as Lynx more. He knew his companion was out almost every night, keeping up the 'anonymous crime' to further bewilder and send their enemies into panic, and malik had been slacking off.

When they took a seat, Malik ordered water and Bakura ordered a beer.

To Malik's surprise, Bakura looked at him and asked if he wanted anything alcoholic, and the Egyptian found himself shrugging. "Anything low calorie?"

"Light beer," the waitress suggested, her eyes judging his too-thin frame.

Malik found pride in her attention and sucked in his stomach a little. She was probably jealous. "Perfect."

As she walked away with their drink orders, leaving them with two menus, Bakura said, "I know the owner and he serves me whatever I want."

"You know the owner, or Ryou does?" Malik said, eyeing the salad section of the place's menu. They had a surprising selection, but most were ruined by something unhealthy thrown on top to make it more appetizing.

"Doesn't matter. Free beer."

Malik chuckled and rolled his eyes, though he was a bit let down by his friend's response. "Oh, my bad."

Bakura smirked and took a sip of his drink after the waitress set it down in front of him.

"I know him, not Ryou," he said, after the woman had served Malik and walked away.

Malik have a small smile, flashing his white teeth and said, "Thanks."

That Bakura had shared that meant more to him that the other probably knew. It marked a new era in their relationship where nothing—even faces—had to be kept secret anymore.

Bakura took another sip of his drink and during the pause in conversation, Malik questioned, "So where in hell did those fake tickets even come from?"

"Pick pocketed 'em off someone trying to sell them on the streets. I knew they were fake but I was hoping the ticket taker wouldn't." Bakura paused, nodding once at Malik's fizzing beer. "Take a sip, kiddo."

Malik eyed it a bit wearily. "I'm, uh…"

"Scared? Never tried beer, huh?" Bakura laughed and pushed the drink closer to his date. "It's not even full flavor."

Malik looked at it with his eyebrows wrinkled together. He cautiously picked up the glass mug and took a tiny sip, writhing at the taste. It was all he could do not to spit it out, instead choking down the amber liquid like he would cough syrup.

"It's like coffee—the first sip always tastes like fried ass."

"That was worse than fried ass. That was more like a _rotting_ ass in the middle of a desert," Malik retaliated, though he picked the mug up again, slightly curious. He took a second sip and he could tell his taste buds had begun to grow more accustomed to the acidic drink.

In fact, it wasn't half bad, and before he knew it, he was ordering a second, along with a salad (lettuce topped with vinegar and garlic, because the latter two burned fat like crazy and the first ingredient was crunchy water).

.

Malik had never been to Ryou's apartment before.

He'd just learned that night that his classmate even lived in an apartment. Ryou stayed alone, in a surprisingly well-decorated one bedroom place in downtown, a much shorter walk to the theater than Malik's house.

At 1:13 in the morning, the Egyptian found himself, a little tipsy, falling into a fake suede couch in Ryou's living room, Bakura following suit.

"Alright now," said the Brit, just as tipsy after they'd both indulged in two and a half glasses of beer—just enough for a small effect on Bakura and slightly larger effect on the less heavy Malik. "This is our second date. I was promised a kiss."

"Tasteful," Malik commented, though jokingly. His buzzed self giggled and leaned toward his date.

Bakura smirked and did the same, inching closer and closer until their noses bumped, very lightly. However, on a broken nose, no touch is light, and the white-haired teenager responded by pulling away and leaning over his lap, both hands over his muzzle which muffled an otherwise loud shout of, _"Goddamn it!"_

"Shit, I'm sorry, Bakura!" Malik said, placing a hand on his partner's back and leaning over his form to see if he was okay. Blood was dripping from between the fingers that still covered the lower half of his face.

Malik searched the coffee table until his eyes landed on a tissue box. He plucked up two of them and wiped the back of Bakura's hands. "Let me clean off your nose."

"Your tipsy ass isn't coming an inch closer to my nose," Bakura muttered through his hands, before he quickly snatched the tissues from Malik, and ripped one into smaller pieces before rolling it up into two little balls. He put one ball into each nostril and used the leftover tissue to wipe off his mouth and the outside area of his nose.

"I guess kissing will have to wait until the third date," Malik said, smirking a little. The look on Bakura's face was certainly amusing, because he could tell the other was cursing him for being so clumsy.

"I'm not the one who broke your nose, so don't glare at me like that," Malik said, placing a hand on the base of Bakura's spine and rubbing the area between his shoulders. "Why don't we just watch some TV or something?"

Bakura rolled his eyes, but Malik could tell he wasn't too upset by the alternative. Of course doing sexual things was great, but maybe the injury was a blessing in disguise, making it so the two had to move a bit slower and another back alley porn scene didn't happen.

"Ryou doesn't have cable," Bakura said, though Malik could see a hidden pain in the reddish tint of his eyes. It was surprising how well he had been about hiding his injury. Malik hadn't noticed it since the day his identity was exposed. In fact, he'd thought it healed, because even the bruises on his face were just faint, yellow marks deep under his skin.

"In that case, why don't you tell me what you're planning to do about the warehouse on Saturday," Malik said.

Just as Bakura opened his mouth to answer, Ryou's phone lit up and started buzzing on the coffee table.

Curiosity struck when Malik saw the name 'Father' and a picture of a smiling family of four on the screen.

**.**

**A/N: See it's not all filler GOSH.**


	18. Meaningful

**A/N: Okay so I'm deathly afraid of spiders (particularly the giant kind) and I live in a very woodsy area. Mofos are everywhere. Including in my house. I just found a huge one on my wall and broke out the full artillery and it up and fell off the wall and disappeared. Tonight we dine in hell.**

**Disclaimer: Spiders are sicknasty hoes and I bet they came up with censoring the dub so much. (Therefore they ((at least partially)) own YGO so I do not ((partially or otherwise; and yes you needed clarification you sarcastic dick))).**

**.**

_Ryou's phone lit up and started buzzing on the coffee table._

_Curiosity struck when Malik saw the name 'Father' and a picture of a smiling family of four on the screen._

.

"Isn't it a bit late for a phone call?" Malik asked, eyeing Ryou's device with an interested gleam in his eyes.

Bakura grunted and declined the call from what seemed to be Ryou's dad. He grabbed the phone and flipped it face down in his lap.

Silence gripped the air around the duo until Bakura saw fit to respond. "There's a significant time difference where he lives and it would bother him too much to remember that instead of waking Ryou and I at ungodly hours."

"Like you ever sleep this early," Malik commented, an amused smirk tugging at his dark lips.

"Alright, fine. He wakes Ryou occasionally but mostly just makes that blasted device go off at very inconvenient times, such as during robberies." Bakura fiddled with said device on his thigh, flipping it over to reveal another call.

"Hell, he never gets the damn message," he muttered, declining the call for a second time.

Malik had managed to get a better look at the photo on the screen, however, and his curious side was begging to come out. "You two were cute as a young kid," he said, unsure about how to word his way into a delicate conversation.

He didn't much care about the cuteness of Ryou, but rather the three people surrounding him that obviously did not live in the apartment Malik was sitting in.

"I suppose." Bakura said, the words coming out slowly, as if his tongue was slicked with sweet honey. "I know you're wondering about the other people, so don't bullshit. They're Ryou's family. His old family, anyway."

"Old family?" Malik questioned, turning fully toward Bakura and sitting with his legs criss-crossed on the couch in between them.

"Yes." Bakura smirked, looking Malik straight in the eyes. His chocolate-cherries gave off a dangerous gleam in the dulled light of the apartment. "They're dead."

Malik swallowed and averted his eyes to his lap, momentarily regretting his own dead parents. "How did that happen?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

The Egyptian looked up, a bit shocked at the sudden resistance. He wondered if maybe the effects of the alcohol were wearing off, and Bakura's lips were once again sealed.

"Let me kiss you and I'll tell you."

Or not.

Malik glanced at his companion's nose, which had just stopped bleeding from the prior kissing accident. "Won't it hurt?'

"Just don't fucking crash into my face this time and no, it won't," Bakura said, half-joking.

Malik rolled his eyes and leaned in, gently puckering his lips and looking up at Bakura through his blonde bangs. He'd never admit it, but his stomach jumped at the thought of kissing his partner in crime, though he'd unknowingly done much more. However, with this being not something that was just a heat of the moment—he hated to say it, but—mistake, it was very different.

The feeling he got when Bakura's lips gently, carefully brushed against his own was different, too. It was somehow meaningful, unlike the bruising, uncaring kisses he'd shared with other guys. His stomach finished performing its swaying ballet when Bakura pulled away after a brief second—and Malik wished he hadn't. He wanted to hold on to that feeling; he wanted to hold on to how this tough guy gave him the most tender, sweet kiss he'd ever received.

Malik breathed out, smiling. "That was really nice."

"If I came at you with full force on our second date, you'd be in bed for at least a week," Bakura defended himself from looking like a pansy, pulling out Ryou's cell phone and opening up his pictures. He scrolled through them before landing on the one that was set as his contact picture for his dad.

The Egyptian's smile wasn't deterred, nor his now good mood, because he knew Bakura was just acting tough. He eyed the picture, taking in a couple. The female had white hair, long and curly. It flowed past her shoulders in cotton waves and brought out dazzling blue eyes—two sapphires gleaming mightily with joy. The father was the tallest. He had brown hair, which was thick and ashy. It was cut short and easy to maintain. He didn't have a smile on his face, and worry lines formed around his mouth and his forehead. Tan skin set him apart from the rest of the people in the photo, but his brown eyes matched that of the small boy standing in front of him.

The little boy—Ryou—was holding hands with a girl that was clearly younger than him. She clutched a pink stuffed bunny that was missing an eye with her free hand, and she looked exactly like her mother.

"Were you around back then?" Malik asked, finally looking up from the photograph.

"I've always been around," Bakura answered immediately. "Lately, I've had much more control, though. The weaker Ryou gets, the stronger I get. I first gained the ability to take over his body when his mother and sister died in a car accident. That happened a year after this picture was taken."

Malik was silent for a moment, once again being reminded of his own family. "My parents are dead."

"Yeah, you told me."

"Did I tell you how?"

Bakura was silent, so Malik went on: "My mom died while she was giving birth to my twin brother and I—Mariku. My older siblings say my dad started acting weird after that. He started smoking after he'd quit for a year and half, and they started seeing all these empty bottles around the house. He lost his job pretty soon after the alcohol came into the picture and he eventually just gave up on everything."

"Oh, sounds cheery." Bakura droned, his face serious.

Malik searched his pale features for hints of emotion, but came up short. He looked away, becoming engaged with a dead plant sitting on the windowsill.

.

The couple walked through the cold night, hands entwined.

"So what's wrong with Ryou?" Malik asked. He figured as long as they were having serious conversations, he may as well bring his school friend up.

Bakura smirked. "I thought you'd missed that."

The Egyptian shook his head. While they were in the apartment, Bakura had said that Ryou was feeling weaker, which gave Bakura much more control over their shared body.

"Ryou is scared about what is happening to him. Wouldn't you be?" Bakura snorted, his eyes fixed on the sidewalk in Malik's neighborhood.

They were walking back to Malik's house in the middle of the night, and the two were nearing it a lot faster than the tanned teen wanted to.

"You should tell him."

"And you _should _listen to your guardians until you turn eighteen. Let me know when you're holding up your end," Bakura said, a hint of poison in his voice.

"What could it hurt, Bakura?"

Before he knew it, Malik was pinned against the post of a streetlight.

"You, Malik. It could hurt _you_ if Ryou were to find out about me." Bakura's threat was obvious in the way he flashed his sharp teeth and the legitimate anger in his narrowed eyes.

Malik hated the fear that crept up in his stomach. Bakura wouldn't hurt him…would he? He pushed the other teenager off of him with surprising ease and stepped away. "My house is nearby. I can make the rest of the way alone."

"Wait, Malik," Bakura said as the other was turning around. Malik felt a hand—it was friendly, unlike the previous gesture—on his shoulder. "I don't want Ryou to know because I don't know what will happen to me."

Malik turned his head so he could see Bakura through the corner of his eye. "If Ryou doesn't find out, what will happen to _him_?"

The conversation was over and Malik sneaked back into his house for the night, the headache of a hangover already settling in.

**.**

**A/N: Warehouse stuff with the heroes next chapter! I wanted it to be in this one, but it got too long and my word count OCD became the grumpy cat meme. **

**(P.S. I wrote the beginning of this chapter and the first A/N about a week ago and I still have not found that spider. FUCK.)**


	19. Stage Three: Downfall

**A/N: I'm not sure ecactly how many chapters will be left in this story, but it'll be ending in a little bit. Just a few more things to take care of. :)**

**I'm thinking of writing a deathshipping with a ridiculously complicated plot (more organized than this one has been, but also a lot more unique and love-it-or-hate-it). Is that something you guys would like maybe possibly?**

**Disclaimer: NOPE.**

**.**

Malik began Friday by skipping breakfast and 'forgetting' money for lunch at home.

His stomach was upset from the previous night's alcoholic adventure, and a fierce headache in the center of his forehead made him want to roll over and let sleep once again overcome. Not to mention how sour his and Bakura's date had ended made him want to skip even more.

Unfortunately, he knew that he'd already missed one day out of the week and he didn't need to miss another.

That thought is what made Malik pass up his morning shower in favor of stopping by the coffee shop on the way to school.

As he sipped his rich, black drink in front of his locker, stuffing the majority of his books back behind his mountain of clothes and personal hygiene items, he let himself contemplate the many ways the day was probably going to suck harder than a two-dollar whore:

One, he was going to have to face Bakura for the first time since their date had gone badly the previous night.

Second, he didn't know how long his hangover was going to last, though he hoped not long since he hadn't had that much alcohol, if that even counted for anything.

Third, the stuff at the warehouse was supposed to go down at midnight.

He still wasn't exactly sure what Bakura had planned. He knew that the white-haired lunatic wanted them both there, in costume, but that was about it. When he'd asked about the secrecy, the other had simply smirked and said it was a surprise.

He just hoped it was supposed to be a pleasant one.

"Malik."

(Speaking of _pleasant_ surprises.)

Malik's head snapped at the sound of his name, his stomach churning a bit when he met eyes with Ryou—or Bakura, said the red tint and glint of sick amusement.

"Good morning, Bakura," the Egyptian said, avoiding squirming under his friend's intense gaze.

"Good indeed," replied the white-haired teen. "I'm very excited for later tonight, and you should be, too, my dear."

Malik stared at him blankly with lavender eyes. He should have guessed that Bakura would want to just let everything go without talking about it. He didn't much seem the type to sit and work things out in a relationship.

"Tonight, we enter stage three: downfall," he continued. "This day will be monumental in the future of Domino."

Malik knew his face must have been hysterical now, a mix of horror and confusion, but not because of Bakura's words or attitude. He was a little distraught due to the distraught stare he was receiving from his locker neighbor, a girl with long blonde hair that was tied up by a blue ribbon.

Her mouth hung open slightly, like she wanted to say something but had no idea how. Her furrowed brows relaxed a little when she realized Malik had noticed her staring, and she gave a small smile to pretend like she hadn't overheard.

"He's practicing for a play," Malik spat out, hoping she'd buy it. They had math together, and he knew she was a ditz.

The girl nodded and continued with digging through her locker, though she was obviously still a bit concerned for "Ryou Bakura's" sanity.

After she walked away, glancing back worriedly at Bakura twice, Malik whispered, "You have to be more careful, Bakura. People know you as Ryou here, and he would never act like that."

"Ryou has never met that girl," Bakura defended, his chin up. "Besides, it doesn't matter what they think. His senior year is almost halfway over, as is yours."

Malik rolled his eyes and began walking to their shared first period, avoiding conversation until they could switch to passing notes. Call him a coward, but he felt like talking about the previous night _not_ face to face was the best decision.

Five minutes into the lecture, he started off the notes with a sheet ripped from his binder:

_Why did you threaten me last night? _he scrawled, then passed the paper to Bakura in front of him.

_I didn't, I simply made you aware of my displeasure at the thought of Ryou being told of my existence, _Bakura replied.

Malik: _Do you enjoy making him uncomfortable so you can have more control…?_

Bakura: _What have I said about your psychoanalyzing?_

Malik rolled his eyes when he read the message and replied, _You know, you're an asshole. You're afraid of him gaining all the control in that body, and so am I, but that doesn't mean he should have to live such a tortured life. He's legitimately scared, Bakura._

He saw Bakura's body tense from behind him, and Malik knew he was growing frustrated with the conversation.

_I know very well he's scared. I can feel it in him, remember? Our souls are bonded more than you'll ever know. And no, I don't want him to be scared or pushed completely out of control, but I don't think he could take knowing he has another half, _Bakura wrote. _Conversation over._

Malik huffed and wadded up the paper.

Reason number one why the day was going to be dreadful: check.

.

11:50 found Malik waiting in the dark, costumed and sitting on a wooden support beam high off the floor of the musty warehouse, which had clearly been out of use for several years.

Bakura, of course, was white-clad and right beside him, pacing along the beam with lithe feet that didn't hesitate for a moment. The beam creaked quietly with every step the other took, and Malik was beginning to feel the repetitive sound nibbling at the edge of his nerves.

"Would you be still? It's bad enough your costume is awful camouflage, we don't need you making a huge ruckus," Malik breathed, his tone more than just a bit snippy.

Bakura laughed through his nose. "At least I don't set off a gaydar from five miles away."

The Egyptian teen was not in the mood for jokes. His hangover had worn off long ago, but unfortunately Bakura hadn't. Not that he was mad at Bakura, per se, just at the situation and how his partner had reacted to it. Bakura had been mean to him the night before and he expected an apology, which he had yet to receive. Until he did, he found no reason not to act in a brusque manner.

"Come now, Malik, quit menstruating," Bakura said, noting the tense body language of the other male. "We've got work to do."

"I don't even know what's going on," he replied, standing up nevertheless. He had only concluded that the plan was to confuse the law enforcement and heroes that showed up, as Bakura had spent god knows how long setting up an elaborate display of many chairs surrounding a platform on the floor. In each chair was seated a dummy, which looked to be made of stuffing and old clothes. The thought of Bakura sitting and sewing them all together was almost laughable, though he'd never put it past his partner to spend so much time and effort on such an occasion.

"Just play along and you'll understand. Oh, and fly out through the back exit—" Bakura paused to point in the general direction of the back right corner of the dark chamber-like room. "—when I give the signal."

"What's the signal?" Malik prompted, leaning against a vertical support beam that met with the one the couple was standing on.

Bakura pulled something out of a black backpack he had resting at his feet. "This is."

Malik eyed the bottle of alcohol that Bakura held up, a bit of worry hidden by his mask. He watched as the other twisted off the cap, lifted his mask and sipped from the clear liquid. After he swallowed and let out a very loud sigh of contentment, he offered the bottle to his tanned friend. Though he tried to stay serious, Malik couldn't help but chuckle.

"You're fucking insane," he said, repeating Bakura's actions and tasting the sickly liquid. He recognized the taste from a long time ago when Malik went to his first high school party.

Bakura set the bottle at his feet, right next to his backpack, and when Malik looked up again, the white-haired teen had him pinned to the vertical support beam, his mask once again lifted above his nose.

"Damn right I'm insane," Bakura said against Malik's open mouth. His hot breath tickled Malik's lips, and he could taste the alcohol on both their mouths. "And you love it."

Malik felt his lip trembling for a kiss, just a short and brief moment where they could be one. He leaned in without a word and Bakura seemed much obliged for the opportunity. The two kissed softly for no more than a few seconds before Bakura's hand found the back of the Egyptian's neck and their mouths were coming together, over and over, with more pressure and need.

Before their romantic scene could escalate any further, the sound of cars parking outside the building made the air suddenly tense again.

"Stay down. Keep yourself hidden," Bakura instructed, offering one last kiss before tugging his mask over his soft, chubby lips and crouching down on the support beam.

Malik slid his back down the wood he'd been pinned to moments before, pulling himself into a sitting position. As the door slammed open, letting a rectangle of yellow run across the dusty floor from a nearby streetlight, he could feel the energy and excitement coming from Bakura.

A team of law enforcement officers kicked the door open, guns lifted. One of them called something out, presumably at the imaginary group of criminals cooking up evil inside. It didn't take long for them to see that the 'people' in the chairs were dummies and that they had most certainly fallen into a trap.

"Hello, gentlemen," chimed Bakura, his tone nothing but cheerful. "I suspect you're wondering why you're here, since this is obviously not what you expected to see."

Lights shone on the pair on the beam, and Malik stood up possessively right next to his partner.

"Unfortunately, I have some bad news to deliver to you, pertaining to your dear friends." Bakura waved carelessly in the direction of the three superheroes who'd entered at the head of the law enforcement team. "Rather than explain, I'll show you. If you will, please approach the empty chair to your left—yes, you, tubby with the beard—and open the manila folder."

'Tubby with the beard' did as he was told, removing several sheets of paper from exactly where 'Lynx' had said. As that was playing out on the floor, Bakura unzipped his backpack and pulled out a cell phone—one Malik recognized as Ryou's—and played a recording, with the volume all the way up."

_"Fair enough. Now let's talk about this deal." _Malik's voice chimed from the phone, and his stomach sank.

Bakura was going to expose the heroes for making a deal with him.

_"You help us solve this mystery criminal disaster and we'll let you off the hook for three months…" _Next was Sorcery Chance's voice, and the Egyptian found himself looking at the other person involved in the conversation. The hero's eyes were wide with horror and many of the officers had turned to face him, looking plenty unhappy themselves.

Bakura continued to hold up the phone until the recording ended. After a silence to let the information sink in, Bakura spoke, "That, valued officers of Domino, was your very own Sorcery Chance making a deal with my partner, Fast Fist, and yes, those pictures enclosed in the folder were of the two of them having this conversation. I do hope this information suits you well—"

Bakura was rummaging through his backpack, and he pulled out a rag and a box. He tipped the bottle at his feet and spilled much of the clear alcohol onto the rag. Malik wondered if this was supposed to be his sign. All doubt disappeared when his partner pulled a stick from the box and scratched it once, swift and forcefully against the flint.

The match lit instantly, and Bakura held it up to be rag for a mere second before it grew hungrily at the taste of alcohol.

"And enjoy the rest of your night."

He dropped the rag.

"Shit!" Malik exclaimed (and a few of the people below shared their own French) as the rag landed on one of the dummies and caught that aflame too. To make matters worse, the tanned teen's last sight before he flew toward the exit he'd been told to use was of Bakura dropping the open bottle into the flame, to continue its plentiful meal of the warehouse that had been abandoned for years.

**.**

**A/N: Well that's a happy ending to this chapter. :D**

**Have a nice day everyone and I hope you enjoyed!**


	20. Nine and a Half

**A/N: Oh my goodness gracious lordy god above us this is so ridiculous. I just got my computer back a few days ago, completely wiped of everything (Sims 3 why :,((() so I have no records of any of my stories and I had to redownload Word, which sucks because I had a few that I was working on on the side that will never ever be finished now. I kind of had to do a lot to continue this story, including reading the vast majority of it for probably the fourth time in my life (if you write as well, you probably understand that this is the most torturous thing to do ever because it feels like editing but you can't change what you fucked up and just no). **

**But in the end, it was all worth it, because here is chapter 20 of TTABE.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

Malik felt the heat of exerting himself slowly rising up his neck and face as he flew, and his stomach bubbled angrily.

He knew his cheeks were flush with exhaustion, but he was just a few minutes' flight from the rooftop. He had to make it before he passed out, but his black and grey kaleidoscope vision was making it clear he wasn't going to.

"Fuck," he breathed, lowering himself slowly into the only clearing he could find-an empty parking lot in front of an unused office building.

He hit the ground harder than he would have liked, and his last few moments of consciousness were filled with the sight of smoke not too far in the horizon.

.

Malik was lucky Bakura found him before the police, else he would have been unmasked and detained.

His mind was like that little bit of marker left on the whiteboard after someone tried to erase it with their fingers-blurred and ugly. The Egyptian could feel the flush on his cheeks, the sweat coming from every pore and he was pretty sure the Trojan War was going on in his intestinal tract.

"_God_, you're a fucking _idiot_, Ishtar," Bakura spat, shaking Malik fully awake.

He opened his eyes and saw stars-one or two dotted in the city sky. He turned his head and felt confusion when he took in a sulking living room only lit by the milky radiance coming from the window on the other side of him. A white figure took the sight from him, and suddenly Bakura was in his face.

"I should have left you to rot on the ground, you fucking cock-up asshole."

Malik let out a shallow breath and moved to take off his mask, getting confused when he realized he wasn't wearing it. "Where are we?"

"My house, idiot," Bakura said, his hair still un-brushed from being under his mask all night. Malik smirked a little at the cuteness of his messed up mop of white frizz.

"You're really cute when you're pissed," Malik said through dry lips, daring to sit up. The world was a merry-go-round (minus the merry part), but he braved it and leaned his back against the armrest of Ryou's couch. The realization that he was on the couch in his boyfriend's apartment is what really brought him fully to.

"You could have ruined the whole night," Bakura sulked almost childishly.

Malik turned and planted his feet on the floor. He knew he wasn't ready to stand, but he wanted to face Bakura, who was sitting in front of him on the coffee table, cross-legged like he was meant to be there.

"I can't believe you. Really. You knew tonight was going to be big and you still didn't eat anything. How do you expect to keep doing all this with me if you can't even fly half a mile?"

"I'm sorry."

"I mean seriously, you need to grow the hell up or get the fuck out."

"I'm _sorry_, Bakura," Malik repeated, wiping sweat from his forehead. He felt disgusting and he wanted to take a shower. He really wasn't looking forward to the lecture he was about to receive.

"Don't even say that to me. You may be sorry for passing out and almost ruining the night, but you aren't sorry for your dieting bullshit. That's what needs to change, Malik. I'm not about to waste my time anymore. I know I said I was going to wait for you to learn for yourself, but just look at you," Bakura paused, throwing his hand out to gesture to his Egyptian boyfriend. "You're about to turn eighteen years old and you can't even come to terms with how goddamn gorgeous you are."

Malik's eyes widened at Bakura's words. He hadn't expected the last sentence to end the way it had. "You...think I'm gorgeous?"

Bakura's furrowed brows softened a bit and he raised his chin with pride. "I mean, of course. If you gained a few pounds, you'd be a perfect ten."

Malik found comfort in the words. Hearing that someone thought he was skinny-and not in an entirely bad or insulting way-was really nice. He looked in the mirror with disgust and saw someone who wasn't _necessarily_ fat in a lot of places on his body, but on others he felt like a pig. He hated how the area just under his belly button stuck out and he hated the collection of fat on the insides of his thighs.

In a way, Malik knew he wasn't overweight, but he also knew that that didn't make him _not_ fat.

But in that moment, his stomach and thighs didn't matter nearly as much as the boy in front of him, telling him he was gorgeous.

"What am I now, if not a ten?" he asked, feeling a small smile form on his lips.

Bakura's expression calmed significantly, and the disgusting smirk Malik knew and loved returned. "You're a nine and a half."

Malik snorted. "Thanks, I think." He paused for a moment, thinking. His next words came out a little easier than he'd expected them to: "What do you say to dinner on me?"

If Bakura was thrown off, he hid it well. "I say what took you so damn long? I always pay."

"You mean Ryou always pays," Malik muttered. He was still wearing his costume, but he didn't think Bakura would mind loaning him an outfit for the night.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of drinks on you," Bakura said, practically reading his mind and wandering to Ryou's closet to grab a dull outfit consisting of loose skinny jeans and a white t-shirt.

Malik gladly accepted the clothes and went into the bathroom to change. Through the door, he called, "You know, I'm beginning to think you might have a drinking problem."

"As far as the guys at the liquor store know, _Ryou_ has a drinking problem."

"You're not even old enough to buy it yet," Malik replied.

He heard Bakura laugh behind the door. "You've never heard of a fake ID, huh?"

"Silly me," Malik said as he returned to the living room, fully clothed in Ryou's drab style that was a bit baggy for his tastes.

Bakura was waiting by the door, holding a black military jacket open for Malik to slip into. The tanned teen took the invitation and felt grateful for the immediate warmth the thing provided him. As Bakura opened the door, Malik smirked.

"You know, you're quite the nine and a half yourself, Bakura," he said as he passed under the threshold and into the chilly night.

He heard his companion snort and Malik couldn't help but smile. Bakura was moody, arrogant, hot-headed and certainly not most people's idea of a dream man (aside from his panty-dropping accent, of course) but maybe under all that anger and sarcasm, he was a softie. Just like a water-drenched cat-pissed and hissing, but under the surface all he wanted was some love and attention.

Dinner was going to be a blast.

.

When Malik got home, he was a little surprised to see that the only car in the driveway was Mariku's truck.

He scanned the house and saw that all the lights were out, even Ishizu's bedroom light. It was well into five A.M. by now, and normally she would be getting ready to leave for the museum. Malik had allowed himself to stay out so late simply because his birthday was in a few short days and soon he wouldn't be dealing with 'groundings' or other nonsense. It seemed, though, that the one time he didn't care about being caught was the time he wasn't going to be.

Malik switched on the lights in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He had stopped to pick up his backpack before coming home which was, as always, hidden in an alleyway, so he set it on the passover bar and unzipped it, searching for his phone.

He switched it on, and as soon as he did so, it blew up with texts and missed calls.

After looking them over, what he could conclude was that Odion had been injured on duty and he was in the hospital.

**.**

**A/N: I'm so excited to be working on this again! Thanks for reading and if you wannnttt to, I wouldn't mind getting a review on this chapter. Thanks for your support, guys. :)**


	21. Dirty Lies

**A/N: To anyone experiencing issues reviewing chapter 20 where it said you've already reviewed-that's because when I added the new chapter I just replaced my previous A/N chapter explaining about my computer with the content of the chapter. Since some people reviewed that A/N chapter, it counted those reviews as reviews for "chapter 20". Oops. :o**

**Also I'm on Word 2007 now because it's all I could get my hands on for less than 150 dollars, so my ellipses don't show up on FF, since 2007 doesn't correct it automatically to a long hyphen. It leaves it as two hyphens and then FF deletes the repeated symbol. This stinks because I reeealllly like ellipses in my writing, but please excuse the awkwardly-placed hyphens last chapter. I'll stop using them now that I know they don't work.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

_He switched his phone on, and as soon as he did so, it blew up with texts and missed calls._

_After looking them over, what he could conclude was that Odion had been injured on duty and he was in the hospital. _

**.**

For Malik, the two days ran together.

Of course, the previous night/earlier that morning, he rushed to the hospital as soon as he'd found out about Odion's injury. However, now it was light out and they'd all just gotten home from the emergency room, including the eldest brother. Ishizu was preparing a messy breakfast of chunky scrambled eggs and burnt bacon. Her face was solemn, as usual, but much less composed. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes, mingling with the natural dark color of a sleepless night.

Malik was sure his appearance fared the same, especially since Bakura had talked him into a drink or two when they were out. He really needed to stop doing that. Not to mention Odion's injury giving him a stomachache; or maybe that was his larger-than-normal dinner not too long ago.

Either way, he felt guilty and he wasn't sure if it was about the food or his brother or both.

Malik found himself staring at Odion; at the bandage across his left thigh. It was a burn wound, and he said he'd gotten it from doing a raid on an old booby-trapped warehouse because of some corrupt tips given to Domino's own Sorcery Chance. He figured the missing minor details and the slight variation of the story was because of issues with releasing the harsh news to the public about what had happened and how their beloved hero squad was no longer reliable.

"Breakfast is ready," Ishizu sang, sliding a plate to Odion across the bar.

Mariku had opted out of eating, and crawled upstairs to slip into his Saturday slumber, which normally lasted well into the afternoon. With the absence of his twin, both eyes landed hungrily on Malik, clearly expecting him to ditch out on breakfast as well with a barely plausible excuse.

"It smells great, Ishizu, thanks," Malik said as he slid out of his bar stool and fixed a plate with the equivalent of one scrambled egg. Although he decided to leave out the bacon (he was _so_ not ready for that kind of eating) he knew it was a start; and he meant that.

His siblings both smiled, and Ishizu nodded, grateful for the compliment on her mediocre cooking. "You must be hungry after such a long night sneaking around."

Malik shrugged. "I wasn't sneaking around _all_ night. Just when I left the house."

"Cute," deadpanned his sister. She didn't elaborate on the topic, but Odion gave him a look that said _this isn't over_.

.

A Saturday at home wasn't Malik's idea of a party.

At least not until he got a phone call around four in the afternoon.

"Hello?" he said into the mouthpiece.

_"I need to talk to you."_ The voice was Ryou's; a sweet, innocent take on the deep tones of his beloved Bakura.

"What's up?" he ventured quite hesitantly, still uneasy about talking to his boyfriend's other half.

_"I'm learning to fight it, I think. Blacking out. I can feel it trying to happen now, but I just keep blocking it. Malik, can I come over to your house for a little while to talk?"_

The Egyptian teen paused, letting the words sink in. No, he didn't want Ryou over. He barely wanted to see the kid at school, much less in his own house where his guardians were pissed off enough as it was.

Hearing his silence, Ryou let out, _"Please. I need you."_

The sugar-coated plea tugged at Malik's emotions. He pictured the wide, chocolate fondue eyes and the childish little smile of his friend, and then he pictured a heartbroken, crying version of the same boy.

Malik sighed. "Fuck. Let me talk to my brother and I'll see if he's okay with it. I'll text you."

He hoped to hell Odion said no.

.

Ishizu had had to go to work shortly after breakfast, sleep-deprived or not, leaving the boys of the house home alone. Mariku had woken up and stayed locked in his room gaming on his computer. When Malik walked past his door, he heard his twin, vulgar and pissed as ever, yelling at some poor creature who had probably gotten him killed in whatever game they were playing.

The tanned teen rolled his eyes and proceeded to his eldest brother's room.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after knocking once then opening the door.

Odion was reading a thick novel, sitting in his bed with a pillow against the headboard. "I'm fine. I was just about to go find you."

Malik rolled his eyes and chuckled. "That's funny since the doctor asked you not to walk around without assistance for a few days."

Odion pointed to a set of crutches leaning against the foot of his bed. "As much as I hate to say it, I'll be using those for a while."

Malik felt a wave of guilt pass through his stomach, leaving in its wake a dull aching. "I'm sorry, Odion."

"It's not your fault I got into that situation, Malik."

With a bitter taste in his mouth, the teenager dismissed the subject. "Well, are you up for company, or should I tell Ryou he can't come over today?"

Odion's eyebrows knitted together. "Speaking of Ryou. Was he who you were with last night?"

"Well, no. I mean, maybe."

His eldest brother raised a dark, defined eyebrow. "And that means...?"

"I met someone, Odion. I don't want to jinx anything, though, so I won't introduce him for a little while," Malik said, grateful an excuse came to him so quickly. Bakura wasn't exactly the most parent-approved boyfriend, especially since he was basically Ryou with messier hair. He wasn't sure how he'd explain that one.

Odion nodded. "I understand. I also understand that you're almost eighteen and that your sister and I drive you insane."

"That's an understatement," Malik chided. He smiled so his brother knew he was at least half-joking.

"Yes, well, I just want you to know that we do these kinds of things because we care about you and we don't want you to make the same mistakes we did. Like the pot incident."

Malik had almost forgotten about how he'd been 'caught smoking weed' so long ago. He chuckled lightly, but not for the reason his brother probably assumed.

"Ishizu and I worry, but we know you'll eventually learn your lesson, even if your birthday finds you booking it across the country to get some breathing room," Odion said, with a hint of sadness to his tone.

"I'm not going anywhere, brother," Malik promised, and he meant it. He hadn't even decided if he was going to move out or not.

Odion nodded. "Thank you for saying that. I just wish I could have done better for you, Malik. You really are an intelligent and handsome young man; if not too much so of both for your own good sometimes. I don't understand why..."

"You don't understand why I diet? That makes two of us, big brother." Malik looked at the carpet, digging into the thick shag with his bare toes.

They met eyes and exchanged more than just a sad, mutual thought. It took Malik a lot of strength to look away, plastering a smile on his face. "So, about Ryou..."

"Just don't tell Ishizu I said yes, got it?"

Malik wasn't sure if he was happy to hear that, or ready to vomit.

.

The doe-eyed boy sat across from Malik on his own bed.

Ryou's long legs were criss-crossed in front of him, and he idly wrung his hands above his touching calves.

"Are you about to tell me your evil plot, Lynx?" Malik hadn't thought about it before the words spilled out and that was exactly why he didn't want to speak with Ryou. However, if anyone could say no to such a sweet guy, they were pretty much damned.

"Who's Lynx?" Ryou asked, his eyebrows raised curiously. His lips curled much too familiarly around the name.

"Oh, he's just one of Domino's up-and-coming villains," Malik replied smoothly. Where was Bakura when his tanned companion needed him? "I'm surprised you haven't heard the name before."

The Egyptian half expected Ryou's eyes to harden and for Bakura to slap him shitless and call him an idiot, but that dream died when he received a response:

"You follow that kind of stuff?"

"Off and on," Malik bluffed. "So, what was it you needed to talk about?"

Ryou smiled a little. "I actually had some questions. This is the most coherent I've been for a while. A lot of the times I blackout is during school, you know?"

Malik knew where the conversation was headed, but he decided to stall. "And...?"

"And I was hoping that you could tell me what I do. You know, during our class together."

"Oh. Well, I mean you never really do much. You don't talk at all and sometimes you excuse yourself to go places," Malik said, hoping he sounded at least a little confident in what he was saying.

He must not have, because Ryou's brows furrowed together.

"If I don't talk, how do I excuse myself?"

"I mean, you talk sometimes."

"Do I sound different?"

"Yes."

"What do I sound like?"

"Uh, you."

The confused look Malik received was almost suspicious, or maybe he was imagining it. He had to have been, because Ryou would never suspect him of anything. Even though he had all the right in the world to.

"Fuck, you sound the same a little but more monotone, I guess," Malik sputtered. "Look, this is really weird to talk about, Ryou."

"Why is it weird?" Ryou asked. "Can't you just describe how I act when I'm blacked out?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

Malik looked Ryou in the eyes and felt pain at his wide, innocent expression. "I don't even know when you're blacked out."

Ryou bit his lip in thought. "Pretty much every time I'm in class with you, and then off and on a lot during the school day."

"Alright, maybe I'll notice more when I'm looking out for it. Why don't you try talking to me on Monday afternoon and I'll tell you if I noticed anything," Malik said, feeling himself almost sigh in relief that he had thought of such an easy way to stall the conversation.

Ryou looked disappointed at the lack of information, but he nodded begrudgingly in agreement. "Yeah, thanks, Malik."

Now they were ready to get into the topic the Egyptian was actually looking quite forward to:

"Over the phone you said you were figuring out ways to fight the blackouts, though. What did you mean by that?" he asked, finally able to compose a sentence without feeling _too_ awkward.

Ryou's face instantly brightened. "I've been working on pushing the blackouts away, so now when I feel like I'm going to lose consciousness, I just breathe deeply and look at my feet. It helps so much."

"That might not be a good idea." Malik said the words with care. He didn't want to lose Bakura, and if Ryou was figuring out a way to stop him from coming out, then it was the blonde teen's obligation as Bakura's boyfriend to intervene.

"Why not?" Ryou looked shocked with a hint of offense.

Apologizing mentally, Malik spat out one more dirty, dripping, disgusting lie:

"You don't know what kind of disease we're dealing with here. What if the blackouts happen for a reason and by pushing them away, you're hurting yourself more?"

Ryou was silent for a long moment, before a hardened, upset expression delved into Malik's lavender eyes, drilling into his soul and confirming that he was a horrible person.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" His white-haired friend prompted, Ryou's face unchanged and his eyes unforgiving against Malik's conscience.

"No, Ryou. There isn't," he said in reply. Two more dirty lies, he noted, but there was no need to keep track. "I'm just saying that maybe you should just let it take its course until I can tell you more about how you act when you aren't conscious in school."

Ryou's eyes softened and he nodded. "You're right. I shouldn't keep fighting something that I can't even identify. Promise you'll help me, okay?"

Malik nodded, too, and in that moment, he meant it. He decided (with Ryou's sweet expression boring into him and the thought of Bakura, frustrated and bored somewhere deep inside the chiseled body they shared) that he was going to help them.

Both of them.

**.**

**A/N: It really bothers me that the word count in this story went up so quickly and I didn't get everything I wanted to crammed in here. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to drag anything out. I know I said it'll be ending soon, and it will, just maybe a little...less soon. Lol. **


	22. Magic

**A/N: I'm sorry, in my last A/N I said ellipses when what I was trying to describe is in fact called an "em dash". I don't entirely remember why I wanted to call it an ellipsis at that moment in my life, but I just do not question myself anymore when it comes to why I do the things I do. Thank you for correcting me, person who corrected me that I would rather not name in case that is undesirable for that person. :)**

**Also I have figured out how to produce my beloved dash because Google is a lovely blessing. — — — — I'm so happy about this, guys. These things make my writing so much better in my opinion because they're just part of my personal voice. **

**Disclaimer: Do not mix with alcohol.**

**.**

Malik spent the next day pretending to be at the library to pick up a few books for school.

Fast Fist had no luck in terms of meeting up with Lynx that afternoon, so he found himself patrolling the city, looking for trouble. Or at least some entertainment.

Malik scanned the streets, seeing nothing much of interest. A few kids were getting high behind a dumpster, a lady was being mugged by some half-rate thugs and an ugly orange car was being chased by three police officers.

He saw nothing he could possibly intrude upon—nothing that sounded truly _fun_.

The lack of Lynx made the whole villain thing pretty boring.

Malik sighed, landing solemnly on a lonely park bench. A birthday party was being held in a gazebo nearby, and he held up his middle finger when the kids began waving at him. Their parents made faces of shock and led their kids to their cars.

"Good riddance," Malik muttered. At least he'd accomplished one dastardly thing.

"That wasn't very nice," came a testy feminine voice behind him.

Malik located the source and immediately rolled his eyes. "What gives me the _honor_ of your presence?"

Azure Magicmancer stood behind him under a tree, her arms crossed under large, perky breasts. She pushed off from the tree, walking in a sultry, alluring manner—it would have been, anyway, if Malik were straight. (Or into completely overdone, thigh-high stiletto boots. Either way.) As she stepped, she hovered a few inches off the ground so as not to ruin her shoes. The tall woman sat beside him on the park bench, crossing her legs almost pretentiously. She looked over her shoulder at him, smiling with painted plum lips. An auburn bob brushed against her cheeks when she spoke.

"Fast Fist, oh how I've heard about you…" Azure began, her glossy smile holding up though her tone was quite hostile. "My presence has been granted to you on business and absolutely nothing more. Thanks to you and your white-costumed, fashionably dead partner in _idiocy_, my team has been humiliated and shamed."

Malik snorted. "That was the point, _Endora_."

"Very funny. Now, if you'll let me finish," Azure began—and her smile faded a little too quickly for Malik's liking. "I've got a score to settle."

Malik didn't see the kick coming. When Azure Magicmancer's stiletto heel dragged across his thigh, ripping the purple material and leaving a thick scratch, he called out in pain and reflexively retaliated by propelling himself upward (maybe a little too much. Eating was doing his powers well), flipping backward and landing a few feet from the bench. He had no time to tend to his wound, as Azure was flying at him, running through the air at an inhuman speed. He dodged her, rolling on the ground for a moment before taking off to the roof of the abandoned gazebo. He was faster at flying, but she was _not_ joking around.

Azure was right behind him, on his heels like they were racing. She tackled him to the textured shingles, holding him down by his wrists.

"You need to learn that you can't just fuck with people, Fast Fist," she said. Brilliant blue eyes flared with anger through the holes in the mask tied like a blindfold around her visage. She squeezed him painfully, her heels digging into his ankles.

"You will never, ever even go near either of my teammates again. If you need to speak to one of us, you'll speak to m—_EEEE_!" The woman was interrupted by her own high-pitched screech as Malik flew up, tossing her to the edge of the gazebo. She rolled until she fell off and had to catch herself an inch from hitting the grass.

"Sneak attacks are such a low blow. But then again you're probably an expert at blowing down low, aren't you?" Malik chided, examining the scene of Azure floating, still shocked, above the ground.

"Like you're unfamiliar yourself," she taunted, floating calmly back onto the gazebo.

Malik let his lips fall into a grisly grin. "Azure, you hunted me down with the sole purpose of avenging your friend. However, I think that might be a little hard to do with absolutely no powers at all. This isn't little league anymore, honey."

"I have way more power than you could ever dream of."

He'd gotten to her, he knew, by the snappiness in her tone. Malik had been fighting heroes and other villains for a long time, and the one thing that was a universal insult was insinuating a lack of power.

"I don't need any more than I was born with. My reflexes are heightened, and I can fly a lot faster than anyone or anything in this city, even the damn planes," Malik bragged.

"Yeah, heightened reflexes, says the guy with the gash on his leg," she said, smirking nastily.

"Alright, bitch, what do you have?" he countered, arms crossed and hips cocked in a predictable girl-fight way.

"What does it look like?" she said, walking towards him in a way that most men would describe as irresistible, her hips swaying with each stiletto step. The busty woman unzipped the breast of her suit a tad more, revealing ever more of her bountiful chest. "I'm every man's dream. They see me once, and they're in love. I can make anyone wild with lust, desires, wants and needs."

She was close now, setting a slender, black-gloved hand on Fast Fist's chest, trailing her fingertips downward. Their lips were almost touching, but for some reason he couldn't get himself to pull away.

"_You tell me what you want, and I give it to you_," Azure whispered. Her breath was minty, hot and even a bit sexy on Malik's lips, and before he knew what he was doing, he felt himself lean in to make their mouths meet.

He just wanted a short kiss…

But she was gone. Azure had flown up and landed behind him. Malik turned just as she was doing a high back flip that ended with the toe of her boot hitting his shoulder and forcing him to the ground. He landed on his back and she was straddling his stomach in an instant.

"Some say I can even turn a gay man straight. Guess it's true," she said, elbowing him harshly in the sternum.

"Slut," he choked out, winded from the blow. Malik was mid-cough when she rolled off of him.

"Remember what I said, Fast Fist. Don't fuck with us, all right?" Azure said with a cocky tone, clearly ecstatic that she'd taken him down.

She took a running start—right over Malik's midsection—and flew off toward downtown.

Malik lay, looking up at the clouds and barely able to breathe for a few moments, one thought running through his mind:

He hoped to God no one saw that.

.

Malik hadn't bothered to fix up his uniform.

He stayed out, waiting on the rooftop for Lynx to show up. It was well into the night before he did.

"You. Are. Such. An. Idiot."

"Nice to see you too," Malik replied, a bit confused at Bakura's angry greeting.

"Do you not know how to lie?" Bakura said. "I listened to every word you said to Ryou yesterday, and only about 20 percent of it was intelligent."

"Hey, he's hard to lie to. He's a really cute guy," Malik said, smiling dashingly. His pale boyfriend was obviously pretty pissed, and Malik had to admit that the conversation with Ryou could have gone much smoother.

"Yeah, we are, and you're damn lucky he's so trusting," Bakura said. "He suspects, but he still trusts you right now so you're walking on eggshells."

Malik rolled his eyes. "We're fine, alright? I'll figure something out."

"No, you will not. On Monday, I want you to tell him that he acts exactly the same while he's blacked out and end the conversation there, so maybe if he thinks he's doing something normal he'll stop blocking me from taking control for good," Bakura said, pacing in the way he always did.

"How is he doing that?" Malik asked. It had never been a problem before and he wondered where the sudden strength was coming from.

"I don't know. But it's genuinely terrifying."

The tanned teen had never heard Bakura admit to being 'terrified'. Malik felt his face contort in concern and he let out a sigh.

"I can feel his presence growing," his white-haired partner elaborated. "I can feel him becoming aware of me. And you're not helping."

Malik knew well enough that if he mentioned being honest with Ryou, Bakura would get even angrier. So he changed the subject, pushing the problem to the back of his mind. "So you'll never guess who I ran into today."

Bakura's face was unreadable through his mask, but Malik assumed he'd raised an eyebrow or something.

"Azure Magicmancer."

"Ah, she's the one who beat you up, huh?" Bakura taunted, seemingly able to forget the problem at hand for just a moment. His head moved in a way that told Malik he was receiving a judgmental once-over.

"I assure you, she didn't leave unscathed either." Fudging the truth was okay every now and then, the Egyptian reasoned to himself.

"Whatever. What did she want? Surely, to slap you on the wrist for being involved with the warehouse scheme, hmm?"

Malik nodded. "Pretty much. She basically just picked a fight with me and then bragged about how sexy she is."

"She's alright," Bakura noted, shrugging casually.

Head cocked in wonder, Malik felt a wave of curiosity come over him. He remembered once Bakura mentioned he might have been bisexual, but as his significant other, Malik thought it was only fair for him to know the whole truth.

"Are you into that?" he ventured, aiming for nonchalance.

"Sexually, I love women," his partner replied. "Emotionally, not so much."

"So you've never dated a girl?"

"I've never dated anyone at all."

Malik laughed a bit at that. It was fitting, seeing as half of someone would have quite a hard time keeping up a relationship (as he was coming to realize more and more). "Has Ryou?'

"Oh, he's tried dating females, but I always scare them away. He's gay, and he knows it, but before he met you it was almost like he was pretending he was straight." The pair had gravitated toward each other, and Bakura put a hand on Malik's arm affectionately. "That's one reason why I'm glad he met you."

Malik chuckled and took Bakura's hand from his arm and held it in his own. "And what's another reason?"

He knew the answer before Bakura spoke it:

"I quite like you."

**.**

**A/N: I promise I didn't waste your time with filler or randomly bringing in another character. Don't hate me, just hold on. **

**I'm aiming for 25 chapters, guys. I know how the story will end. I absolutely adore writing this story, but I really think I should move on and write something else that I'll absolutely love just as much! I still want to write that deathshipping I mentioned a pretty long time ago so if you guys want a little sneak peek into that, I was thinking about posting a rough summary in the last chapter of this fic. I'll probably do it whether anyone wants it or not because self-advertising and stuff. **

**Let me know in a review please!**


	23. Double Lives

**A/N: We hit 100 reviews, guys! I'm sorry I went missing for a while, but I've just started working at my first actual job, and I never really realized how much work it is to…work…**

**This is a huge chapter for Thiefshipping. I hope you guys enjoy that. ;D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own shiiiit.**

**.**

Monday marked one day closer to Malik's birthday, as well as the day he'd have to speak to Ryou again.

As soon as the class was released, he felt his semi-full stomach drop just a tad. He knew that since he wasn't being blocked, if it started going badly, Bakura would cut in. That was a positive way of looking at the situation at hand.

Malik could visibly tell when Bakura released hold of their mutual body. Ryou shifted a bit, straightening his posture and looking around the room, a bit dazed. An outsider would have thought he'd been sleeping on his desk during the lecture. The boy cleared his throat and turned in his seat to face his Egyptian companion.

Those brown eyes pinned him to the back of his seat.

Giving a reassuring half-smile (more for himself), Malik slid out of his seat and walked out of the room. He decided that waiting by Ryou's locker would not only give him more time to stall, but it would make it seem like he actually _wanted_ to talk.

"What happened?" Ryou's eager eyes were directed at his tanned friend as he cornered Malik against the muddy camel-colored lockers.

"You were exactly the same. You didn't say anything at all, but you took full notes. Just like every day," he replied immediately, a bit impressed with how easily the lie had slid off his tongue. It still tasted just as bitter, but at least he was doing it for a good cause. Well, himself and Bakura.

Ryou's cute face was muffed in confusion and frustration. "That really doesn't help. Are you sure there's nothing else?"

Malik nodded. "Look, I'm sorry, Ryou…"

He sighed through his nose, his head tilted so his white bangs covered most of his face from Malik's field of vision.

"It's okay," Ryou said, though they both knew it wasn't okay.

Malik swallowed guiltily. Something had to be done. "I wish I could just fix it, you know?"

His words were heavier than Ryou would ever know.

.

The day before his birthday, Malik came home from school to Odion watching the news.

_"…And with this information leak about the warehouse disaster that occurred Friday, the entirety of Domino City is no longer trusting any of our co-called 'heroes'. Connect with us on Facebook for more information. Back to you, Eve."_

"I can't believe this," Odion growled, tossing the remote aggressively to the carpet.

"What?" Malik said, feigning innocence.

"The citizens of Domino abandoning their heroes like this. I can tell you right now, as someone who was there, it was a complete setup. Too bad the rest of the squads don't feel that way. They must have leaked the info over the weekend, because there's no way anyone else knew about what happened," his eldest brother replied. He looked really upset, and Malik could see why. He was probably wondering if the same thing would happen to the police force—where everyone turned on them for no good reason.

"Maybe it wasn't, though," Malik offered. In fact, Sorcery Chance _had_ brought up the deal that was referenced in the warehouse. "Maybe the heroes just weren't who they seemed."

"And maybe you and I have double lives as villains," Odion spat.

The younger brother froze, terrified for a moment about if maybe Odion had recognized him at the warehouse. He would be done for. Odion would _have_ to take him in. He'd spend the rest of his life in jail, or in some lab that wanted to study his powers. He wasn't ready for that. Thankfully, his fears were dismissed when Odion continued:

"Get real, Malik. These villains— they're pure evil. There isn't anything good about them."

Malik shrugged. The words hurt, but at least his cover wasn't blown. "I get what you mean, Odion. Just remember that nothing is black and white, right brother?"

Odion snorted.

.

Late that night, the dark calm of Malik's room was relaxing.

And boring.

He didn't really feel too much like staying in, but all the eating lately had made him feel chubby, so he really didn't want to put on a pair of jeggings or his costume—which was still mutilated from his run-in with Azure.

Just as he was about to get in bed, there was a knock on his window. Malik's head snapped at the noise, but there was no one there. Just a piece of paper taped to the glass.

He glanced around the room and got up to examine it.

_"Ryou's house; one hour. - B"_

Malik slid the window open and tugged the note from the outside. He surveyed the general area, coming up with no sign of Bakura. The note was obviously from him, wanting to meet up at Ryou's place. Maybe it was just the push he needed to get over his appearance and get out.

He balled up the note and tossed it in the trash, then got dressed slowly, taking his time picking out a tribal print crop top and a black army jacket, paired with his signature low-rise cargo pants.

By the time he got to Ryou's place, he was already wishing he'd thought to wear a full length shirt. His mind was cleared when he laid eyes on Bakura, who was up on the top balcony of the apartment complex, leaning over the ledge. Under the moonlight, he looked like he could be a marble statue.

Malik waved up at his boyfriend and climbed up the stairs, secretly grateful for the three flight workout.

"It's your birthday," Bakura said, after greeting Malik with a lasting kiss.

"No, it's tomorrow," Malik corrected, tucking a bleached strand of hair behind his ear. He was still a bit dazed from the kiss they'd shared. It really was outstanding to be able to see Bakura's face—his only friend for so long. And kissing him was something he never imagined he'd experience.

Bakura pulled out Ryou's phone and flashed the lock screen at his tanned boyfriend. It was 12:00 A.M. exactly.

"You were actually on time. I figured you'd take forever to put your makeup on and pick out the right dress for the occasion," Bakura teased. His smirk was gleaming in the dim light. He glanced up and down Malik's think frame. "Looks like I was pretty close."

"Hey, crop tops are totally in style."

Bakura snorted. "So how does it feel to be an adult?"

Malik shrugged. "The same, I guess. It's not like I ever listened to Ishizu and Odion, anyway."

They shared a little laugh, meeting each other's eyes. Malik was glad to be spending the moment with Bakura.

"Come inside," Bakura suggested (demanded?), leading Malik to his apartment door.

Before he knew it, the two were on Bakura's couch, talking and playfully arguing, with a bit of cuddling thrown in the mix. An hour or so passed before Bakura brought a bottle of red wine from the kitchen.

"Oh, wow," Malik said, genuinely shocked. He certainly was not expecting the treatment he was getting. He and Bakura were dating now, but he'd never imagined how sweet the other could be. Malik almost wanted to think he was dealing with Ryou.

As Bakura was pouring the wine into two rounded glasses, he spoke, "I also got you a present."

Malik's eyebrows raised in shock. "Bakura, if you wanted to have sex with me, you just had to ask. You didn't need to…"

The Egyptian teenager was cut off when Bakura pulled a really badly wrapped gift out from under the coffee table. Malik smiled. It was endearing, the amount of effort Bakura had put into the night.

"I know you'd sleep with me if I asked, kid," Bakura said, setting the box in Malik's lap. He flipped his hair dramatically, almost effeminately. "You know you can't resist me, so don't act like you would even try."

Malik chuckled lightly and took a sip of his wine.

"I didn't get you a present so you could stare at the bloody wrapping paper, Ishtar."

In reply, Malik rolled his eyes and gently tugged at the paper. It was purple, which was his favorite color. He had a feeling Bakura knew that.

His white-haired companion studied him as he unfolded the top of the box previously withheld by the wrapping paper. As soon as Malik realized what it was, his smile was as wide as the typical Walmart customer.

"I know Azure Magicmancer fucked up your old costume, so I had one made. Under the radar, of course," Bakura said over his wine glass. He'd reclaimed his seat next to Malik on the couch.

Malik took it out of the box and examined the material. It was the same spandex as his old costume, but it was a completely different design. It had his signature "FF" on the top right corner of the chest. It was mainly a light lavender with a silver stripe down left side of the costume. The other side had dark violet embellishments up the sleeve and leg, vine-like designs that hugged the curve of his right hip. The mask was similar to his old one, but lavender in color.

"I absolutely adore it, Bakura. Thank you," Malik set the costume back in the box and pushed it onto the coffee table. He crawled into Bakura's lap and kissed him, the taste of wine fresh on his lips.

Bakura shrugged nonchalantly. "I replaced mine, too. They're both made with a thicker material so it should keep us warm."

Malik shook his head, grinning happily. "Do you want to try them out tonight?"

Bakura nodded, a bit eagerly. "I was hoping you'd ask. Let me finish my wine first."

.

"Let me finish my wine" quickly turned into "how about we drink a few glasses", and before Malik knew it, they were making out in Ryou's bed with the mutual agreement that staying in sounded like more fun than owning the night and giving the public a what-for.

While Bakura climbed on top of him, Malik knew that he was a bit tipsy and maybe they were moving too fast. But then again, Bakura was so hot, and soooo attracted to his own tan body…

Even if he _had_ had a large dinner the night before.

The thought was comforting, and so was the feeling of Bakura pinning him to the bed. It felt so right, and he really did want to sleep with Bakura, in a lot more than his usual way. He wanted Bakura not only for his body, but for his personality, even if he was insane, unpredictable, standoffish…nothing mattered, because the small things he did—like get a thicker fabric for Malik's new costume so he wouldn't be cold—were so sweet that he just _knew_ Bakura cared for him.

And that's all he'd ever really wanted. That's all the demons inside him that told him he was too fat needed to be tamed and tossed to the side.

Malik smiled while kissing his boyfriend, and reached for one of the pale hands what was propping Bakura up. He gently pulled it toward his chest, then to the cutoff of his crop top.

**.**

**A/N: I don't really write porn, but I guess you guys probably get the idea. Leave a review letting me know what you think! Two more chapters to go. :)**


	24. Wish on a Witch

**A/N: Has anyone ever noticed that the Thiefshipping archive is split into two sections? The abridged series fans and the people who should be abridged series fans…**

**Disclaimer: Please don't sue me for copy write infringement.**

**.**

Malik sighed, breathing in the cold winter air.

After classes released on his birthday, his family had insisted on taking him and Mariku to dinner, as they do every year. He was exhausted from the night before, even though the very thought of it made him smile like an idiot. Maybe he'd rushed things with Bakura a bit, and he was dead tired, but he didn't regret a second of it.

"What're you grinning about?" Mariku pried as they passed through the shopping district of the city. They had stopped in on a few shops for Malik and his twin to pick out some gifts for themselves, since Ishizu and Odion had given up attempting to shop for them after several holidays of fake enthusiasm.

Malik widened the grin he hadn't realized was on his face and met Mariku's eyes. "Spending time with you, of course."

His twin made a face and raised his hands defensively. "Incest's not legal here yet, bro, sorry."

"Stop being nasty," Ishizu said half-heartedly, scanning the streets for the restaurant she was looking for.

Odion tapped her on the shoulder and nodded across the road, up a ways. "There it is."

The restaurant was one Malik was familiar with, but he hardly noticed it. He was too busy scanning the horizon, as something had caught his eye…

Someone was on his and Lynx's rooftop. He could see the building from the streets where his family stood, but not the whole roof. He could just barely tell a powder purple-wearing pair of legs were hanging off the ledge, much like Lynx would sit.

The pedestrian crossing light flashed and the machine beeped, startling Malik into mindlessly following his family across the striped road and into the restaurant.

He ordered a light dinner and picked at it for an hour, but not entirely because he wanted to diet. His thought process shot between his romantic night with Bakura and the stranger in his hangout spot.

.

Clad in his new suit (and much warmer than he had been in weeks while in costume), Malik silently broke the wind over Domino City, doing a quick survey over what was going on that particular night.

The only interesting thing he could have noted was that there was a strict lack of any superheroes, and not just Sorcery Chance's team. The streets were overcome with villainy; or at least villain wannabes committing simple crimes. Fast Fist chuckled as he noted one of the up-and-comings being chased by a few police officers down the street.

His laughter caught in his throat, however, when he noticed that the villain in question was wearing all powder purple.

Just as the figure on his rooftop a few hours before had been.

Malik could be called crazy for making such an insanely improbable connection, except for the fact that not many villains took to wearing dusty lavender as their color of choice.

That was the mentality that made him take a wide swoop downward to the street and scoop up the unknown villain by his armpits. Since he'd been eating more, it was much less of a task than it had ever been before, all those times when he'd given Lynx a lift or used his flight in combat.

His pride swelled just a tad while he flew the villain high up, up, up until they reached his so-very-familiar hangout.

"Do you know this place? Were you here earlier today? Who are you?" Malik demanded, dropping the unknown male roughly onto the roof.

The figure was agile, which became obvious when he landed on all fours instead of rolling across the surface, as most would have done.

"Of course I do," spat the figure, standing up and raising his arms in submission. "It's me."

"Bak—Lynx?"

"I told you, I had a new costume made for myself as well."

Malik felt his defenses lower, and a new feeling of embarrassment cloud over his entire body. Finally, he took a good look at the figure. Right off the bat, he could tell one thing: Bakura's new getup was designed exactly like his own, except where Malik's costume had royal purple designs, Bakura's had silver, and where Malik's had a silver stripe down the side, Bakura's had royal purple. The logo on the right side of his chest was a capital "L" rather than his own "FF".

"Your mask," Malik said, noting with glee one last thing. "It's like mine. I can see the bottom half of your face."

Bakura flashed his teeth and let his tongue poke from between the rows of white pearls. "All the better to kiss you with, my dear…"

Malik grinned. The way Bakura's accent caressed the English language was unbearably endearing.

Taking a step closer to his tanned boyfriend, Bakura continued speaking. "That awkward moment aside, it was pretty badass how you pulled me out of that situation like that. What, were you scared I had another man up here?"

The darker teen rolled his eyes. "No, I was actually scared someone was snooping. Besides, this is our hangout and they can get their own."

Bakura's grin hadn't faded, and Malik was beginning to wonder if his facial muscles would get sore.

"Oh, Fafi, who in their right mind would snoop on us? Look what we've done to this town. Who would dare to mess with us now?"

Malik raised an eyebrow, even though Bakura couldn't see it. "You're sure in a good mood today."

"I have every reason to be," Bakura responded almost giddily. "I have a hot ass boyfriend, Ryou's stopped shutting me out, and these stupid heroes are being shamed into the dark corners of Domino, as they've done to us for generations. My life is perfect."

Malik gave a little laugh as his boyfriend rested his hands on his tanned hips and kissed him, without having to pull up his mask or anything. It was quite lovely, and Malik could see himself getting used to it, as well this ecstatic version of his partner in crime.

"It's nice to see you so happy," he whispered over Bakura's mouth, planting a tiny kiss on his bottom lip.

For a moment, Malik let himself cherish the feeling of those pale hands on his body (like they had been the night before) and he let himself feel the other's warmth, which was comforting in the dead of winter. The breath on his nose, the flutter of Bakura's dark eyelashes when he blinked.

And he realized something.

He was falling way too hard for this kid.

Malik pulled away a bit. "Hey, why don't we go break in these new suits, huh? Show everyone we're officially partners…um, in crime."

Bakura nodded. "Sure. I was in the middle of robbing that jewelry store when you picked me up. We could probably still find some officers there to harass."

Before Malik could even think of what to say to that, he felt the weight of his boyfriend hit him in the stomach and tackle him to the rooftop.

"Damn it!" Screeched a female voice from the area where he had just been standing. Her boot dug into the cement, and Malik didn't even want to think of what would have happened to him if he was under that shoe.

Lynx rolled off of him and immediately lunged at Azure Magicmancer, tackling her in a much more aggressive way than Malik had just experienced. He watched the two roll around and wrestle for a moment until they each jumped to their feet and stood on opposite ends of the rooftop.

Malik took the chance to speak. "What the hell do _you_ want?"

"I want—" She took a few steps closer to the Egyptian villain. "—to make—" She lunged. "—YOU PAY!"

Her kick hit Malik in the chest, and he definitely felt her heel dig into his skin. However, as he was falling from the tall building to his death from the force of her kick, he didn't really think about the pain swelling in his torso. He forced his body to flip over. Taking the wind in his face, Malik forced himself upwards. He flew to the nearest building and landed to catch his breath.

Form his new position, he could see that one other figure had made its way onto the rooftop, presumably Chance's second lapdog, Wolf Bite.

"Hee-yah!" Yelled Azure, making her way from one rooftop to the next—barreling right for Malik.

He knew Lynx could handle Wolf Bite, so he decided that focusing on Azure for a while would be the best approach.

Fast fist shot himself up into the air and hit his female rival like a lightning bolt. They both slammed through a giant window in the building next to his and Lynx's hangout.

Malik pinned Azure against a cubicle inside the building as soon as they landed and began throwing punches. "Stop fucking with us, you bitch!"

"You…stop fucking…with _us_!" She screamed, breaking free of Malik's grasp and grabbing his offending fist.

She twisted his arm painfully backward and kneed him in his lower belly. He coughed immediately, and returned the favor by using his free hand to whack her in the face.

"Why do you have such a lady boner for Chance anyway?" Malik spat, spinning out of her grasp and getting into a defensive position nearby.

"That's none of your business. All I know is you messed with him, so you messed with every hero in Domino." Her eyes were narrowed in a lot more than ordinary anger. Pure rage—like any moment she would spit fire and burn Malik to bones—emanated from her entire body.

And he had a thought.

"You love him."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorcery Chance. You're in love with him."

She was silent, but her eyes had widened. The rest of her features followed suit, and in a few moments she looked guilty. Sad. Her skimpy mask did little to hide her blatant feelings.

"You love him and he doesn't love you. What happened to being able to give anyone what they want? Turn gay men straight?" Malik prodded, knowing he was getting to her. Digging into her deepest fears and tearing her apart from the inside.

"There's just one gay man you can't change, huh?"

"SHUT UP!" Azure shot at him and held him against a wall by his neck. "If he would give me the chance, I could give him everything he's ever dreamt of. Shut up."

Malik couldn't speak. She was cutting off his air supply, and he dug his nails deep into her arm, slicing clean through her skin. He kicked, but her body was holding him against the wall.

"I was made to grant wishes. I'm a fucking witch. A genie. I give everyone what they want."

The unspoken, _"everyone but myself" _pulled at Malik's heartstrings, and he wondered briefly if maybe he'd gone too far with her. Before he could really think about it, darkness was eating away at the corner of his vision and he knew he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

But he had an idea.

"Let…me…help you…" The little bit of air in his lungs struggled to make up the sentence.

Her eyes widened, big and blue and innocent. Hopeful.

And he fell to the floor, kissing the darkness that overtook him.

.

"Wake up, Fast Fist. Now."

Malik opened his eyes to Azure Bitchiness herself.

"You have ten seconds to explain what you meant about helping me, or I'm throwing you off another building."

"You said you grant wishes," he whispered, still half-unconscious. "What do you mean by that?"

"Someone wishes for something, and I make it happen."

Malik's chest filled with hope. He sat up, propping his back against the wall. He felt nauseous after passing out like that, and he knew he'd have bruises on his neck in the morning, but his mind was racing into bigger and better things. Solutions to age-old problems.

Malik spoke. "Look."

Azure's eyes were hard, focusing on Fast Fist with an interest that was mutual between the two.

"If you can grant me one major wish, I'll tell Domino City that the warehouse was a setup, and the recordings we had of Chance were fake. Deal?"

She nodded swiftly. "Yes. Definitely. He's so torn up about this. He's devoted his life to saving others and now he _can't_. It kills him."

Malik was silent for a moment, idly tugging a piece of glass from when they'd crashed through the window off of his new suit. Of course, it pulled a thread loose. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he said, "You know what else probably kills him?"

She cocked her head, and Malik wondered if she knew her breasts were so obnoxiously large that they giggled every time she made any movement.

"That his best friend is in love with him, and he swings the other way."

For a moment she looked like she'd slap him, but instead she averted her eyes.

Malik continued. "It's hard when people try and stop you from being who you are. Trust me."

He watched as she rubbed her face, and decided not to say anything when it became obvious she'd started crying. Instead, he sat there and watched her until she said:

"So, what's your wish, Fast Fist? World Domination? A billion trillion dollars? Infinite wishes?"

"No," Malik said. He played with words on his tongue, French kissing vowels and consonants between his teeth. He was unsure how to word his wish. He figured bluntly was the best option, so he continued. "I want Ryou and Bakura to have their own bodies."

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

Malik's head snapped to the side, and he caught the end motion of Lynx swinging into the room through the broken window.

"Just let me handle—"

Azure Magicmancer cut him off. "Do you mean Ryou Bakura, who goes to Domino High School?"

**.**

**A/N: In my mind, Bakura really wants to call Malik a fuck up and flip him off right about now. **

**I had to get over my OCD and make this chapter longer than most. It needed to be. I already have the last chapter typed up and I'm happy with how it is, so I'm going to leave it and let this chapter be obnoxiously long. **

**Sorrynotsorry.**


	25. Stage Four

**A/N: Hi guys. Also I guess bye guys. Last chapter…!**

**Disclaimer: Thank you for not suing me for copy write infringement.**

**.**

_"What the hell do you think you're doing?"_

_Malik's head snapped to the side, and he caught the end motion of Lynx swinging into the room through the broken window._

_"Just let me handle—"_

_Azure Magicmancer cut him off. "Do you mean Ryou Bakura, who goes to Domino High School?"_

.

There was a strong, absorbing silence in the room, until Bakura was slammed into the same cubicle Malik and Azure Magicmancer had just been wrestling on.

"Wolf Bite! Wait!" Azure yelled. She climbed to her feet and went to break up the fight between her companion and Lynx.

"They're gonna help Sorce," she said to him, her hand squeezing his arm reassuringly. He calmed down considerably and pulled away from Lynx, though his dark eyes were narrowed behind his metal mask.

Malik didn't pay too much attention to the two of them, instead focusing on his boyfriend, who had turned fully to face him. His lip was raised in anger, in an almost doglike snarl.

It took a lot for Malik to tear his eyes from Bakura's form, instead pinning his gaze on Azure. "It doesn't matter who they are. What matters is that you grant that wish, and I'll grant yours. Sorcery Chance will be off the hook and you guys can go about your business."

Azure Magicmancer's eyes were hopeful behind her navy blue mask, but her lips puckered with distaste. She probably didn't want to trust the villains again, but Malik knew her choices were extremely limited.

"Fine. I'll work on it."

Giving up on the conversation, Lynx darted out the window, and Malik watched his form jump from rooftop to rooftop, how he always did to get around the city quickly.

"I don't want you to work on it. I want results. I'll have my half taken care of by the end of tomorrow."

Fast Fist exited the building, feeling the eyes of the superheroes on his back.

.

By the time he'd pinned Lynx down, his white-haired boyfriend had taken to sulking in a park on the outskirts of town, still in his costume.

From above, Malik could see that Bakura was laying on his back on bench, his eyes closed.

Before his feet even touched the ground, Bakura spoke:

"I can't believe you're willing to toss everything we've accomplished together aside."

"I'm not tossing anything anywhere. I'm fixing this—all of this. The sneaking around, the lying, the pain all this is causing Ryou and you and me." Malik kneeled next to Bakura, resting his hand on his partner's stomach. "I'm so done with this, Bakura."

When the white-haired teen remained silent, Malik continued.

"We can't keep living like this. I…" He let his hand find Bakura's, and he gripped it tightly, begging for his partner to understand. "I like you. A lot. And I want us to work out."

Bakura breathed, so quietly, biting his bottom lip hard. "I want this world that Domino is becoming. We rule it. We own it."

"Barely anyone even knows it was us who set the warehouse on fire and outed Chance."

Bakura was silent, because he knew Malik was right, and he was most certainly not the type to admit it.

"If they know this was our doing and that we set their little worlds into this chaotic spiral to hell, _then_ it's our city. Let's tell them what we did while we can get something out of it."

When his companion still refused to speak, the tanned teen offered one more thing.

"It's time for stage four, _Lynx_."

Bakura sat up and took Malik's other hand. His signature grin reflected the moonlight. "Oh? And what's stage four?"

The Egyptian leaned forward and kissed his boyfriend on the lips, slowly and more gently than he'd ever imagined a kiss could be.

"It's bliss."

.

**-Epilogue-**

.

The very last day of Malik's senior year found him in the campus courtyard, where the seniors had gathered to take pictures, sign yearbooks and say goodbye; because everyone knew that unless they went to college together, they'd probably never see each other again.

At least, that was true for most.

Malik looked to his side, where his white-haired boyfriend stood.

"Do you want to brave the crowds to try and get out of here?"

Touzoku Bakura shook his head. "We're better off where we are, unless you want to make a statement and fly us out."

On his other side, Ryou chuckled. "No, let's wait, please. We're going to see a lot of these people in Domino Community College with us, and we don't need any more people figuring out your little secret."

"Speaking of," Bakura muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Malik to hear.

"Hey, guys," a girl named Anzu Mazaki approached them, holding a yearbook open to one of the blank pages in the back. "It's been a hell of a year. Care to sign?"

There was a passive-aggressive tension between her and her two friends—a tall, thin but muscular boy named Jonouchi and an obnoxiously small kid named Yugi, who was graduating a few years early—and Malik's little group, but they got along on campus grounds. That was mutual territory.

Anzu held up her book a little higher, and her large boobs bounced, lively as ever. Her azure eyes shimmered like a trembling pot of fairy magic, lighting up with her friendly smile. However, anyone who knew the situation would notice her cheery expression falter just a tad when she spoke."Please? It would mean a ton. I'll sign yours."

Malik hadn't thought to have anyone sign his at all, but he figured if it was going to be anyone, it should have been Yugi and his posse. He tugged the book out of his backpack and swapped with Anzu. She squealed obnoxiously, and immediately jotted down a quick note.

Malik was brief with his as well, and when they exchanged back, he saw they'd written the same thing. He smiled just a tad, but furrowed his brows to make it look like a smirk.

"Happy now? Beat it, Mazaki," he said, shooing her away with a wave of his hand.

She laughed, as if he were joking and took Jonouchi's hand. The two had begun dating just after Touzoku Bakura—Ryou's strikingly similar brother who had been studying back home in England—transferred to Domino High. Just after the heroes had received a television broadcasted apology from the police and public for falling for the heinous crimes committed by Lynx and Fast Fist, who were now the most wanted criminals in all of Domino and its surrounding area.

As the three friends walked back into the buzzing crowd of graduating seniors, Jonouchi and Anzu hand-in-hand, Malik looked down at the busty girl's note one more time.

_"Thank you. - A.M."_

"Look at how she initialed it," Bakura noted aloud, rolling his eyes. "Could she be more obvious? Heroes, I swear to god."

Ryou giggled, stepping in front of his friend and _brother_. "At least she thanked him. Besides, those are her real initials, too."

Bakura shrugged, averting his eyes from his carbon copy. There were small differences between them, Malik had noticed. Bakura was a half inch or so taller, and he brushed his hair a lot less. His eyes were always narrowed in that endearing way, and the color was still tinted red—just as they had been when the two white-haired boys shared a body.

"Yeah, they are, but we all know what she—"

"Am I giving you losers a ride home or what?"

As soon as he'd heard Mariku's voice, Bakura rounded on Malik's twin, looking like he was ready to punch him in the mouth. His face flushed with frustration.

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to interrupt me, Mrs. Frankenstein?"

"I don't know, but apparently you haven't done it enough." Mariku laughed loudly, grabbing the attention of some surrounding seniors.

Eyes on Mariku, Ryou was blushing fiercely, and Malik had noticed a lot lately that it was painfully obvious the fragile teen had developed a crush on his twin brother. Bakura had noticed, too, and the two had taken bets on whether or not they hooked up within the month, which was rather likely since the four had moved in together a few weeks after the twins' birthday.

Bakura glared at Mariku, and sometimes Malik wondered if he'd wake up one day and they would have killed each other. At least they'd die happy. He shrugged off the thought and said, "Yes, Mariku. We'll ride home with you. Ryou calls shotgun with you, though."

Ryou gasped in surprise and turned to Malik. Malik winked in return, pretending the look in those big coffee eyes didn't bring back painful memories.

_._

_Ryou gasped, shocked and disgusted._

_Tears ran from his eyes, the tears Malik had imagined since day one of lying to him._

_"You knew all along?" He yelled, uncaring of the neighbors in his apartment complex. Bakura had been asked to stay out of the conversation, but Malik had a feeling he could hear it from the other room, snug in his new body._

_"Not all along, just for a while." He was ashamed. Ryou had a right to be disgusted._

_The white-haired Brit's loud wailing ripped Malik apart—sure, they weren't dating, but they were still friends. He was the only friend Ryou had been open with, the only person by his side and Malik had lied for weeks and months and what felt like it could have been years, rolling in filthy words and a second life._

_"I'm sorry, Ryou. I'm so sorry."_

_Ryou's eyes were glossy with tears, but inside them, behind the pain, there was forgiveness from a genuinely nice person. Malik saw in his eyes the sweet kid that had stood up for himself against that villain so many months before, before Malik had intervened. The kid who came to his house and complimented Ishizu's awful cooking. Called him crying in the middle of the night._

_"I don't care. I don't care," he whispered, calming down a bit. "I don't care if you're sorry or what you did. It's over, Malik. I know what happened and why. It can't torture me anymore."_

_"Its name is Bakura."_

_._

They'd come a long way, the four of them.

Malik shook himself from his memory, because the crowds of graduates were clearing and they could finally get off campus and pile into Mariku's double cab truck.

On the way home, Mariku took a different route than the one that led to their apartment.

"Ishizu wants us for dinner," he explained with what could only be described as the complete opposite of jubilation.

"Goody," recited Malik and Bakura at the same time, as if practiced. The former smirked, amused, and Bakura rolled his eyes at the coincidence.

Mariku signed huffily, and Ryou spoke. "She tries to cook. It's not so bad…"

"Yeah, well Odion's burns are healed up now, so maybe he'll convince her to let him go out and pick up Chinese," Mariku added.

Ryou huffed. "Don't say that. It would hurt her feelings to hear it. Remember, Riku, if you can't say anything nice—"

"…Then blurt out whatever comes to your mind!" Inappropriate as ever, Malik's twin laughed aloud at his own joke.

In the back seat, with Bakura by his side, Malik felt something deep. Seeing how his twin and his best friend joked around, knowing he was on good terms with his family, his boyfriend. Knowing he was successful at what he loved—being a villain—it was a fullness that threatened to burst his chest open, to force out tears of joy. He felt whole, for the first time in his life. He felt like a whole person, a new Malik.

And this new Malik was hungry as fuck.

**.**

**A/N: Annnd there's our outro. **

**I'm going to go cry in a hole now. I want to write this story forever. Wahhhh. It's been two years since I published this, only shy about a month. This is a big deal. I can't. This is such a thing in my life, now I need to start another story…**

**Oh, and I know I said I would post the summart for that Deathshipping story in this chapter, but I'm actually thinking I might just try and think of a better idea to write out. Something more unique than what I was planning, and definitely more Death, because the other one was going to have a lot of Thiefshipping as well. I really want to write some Death, though…**

**Maybe a sequel to this story? Idk. We'll see, I guess…!**


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